


Jurassic Chaos

by rotrude



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Dinosaurs, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Blood, M/M, Minor Character Death, Romance, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-04
Updated: 2015-11-04
Packaged: 2018-04-29 20:21:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 21,780
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5141303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rotrude/pseuds/rotrude
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jurassic World AU. Arthur is an up and coming business executive running a very special theme park his father owns. Merlin's a zookeper turned dinosaur wrangler. They're opposites and can't seem to get along, not even when they try, until all breaks loose.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Jurassic Chaos

**Author's Note:**

> Thanking the fab archaeologist-D for the swift and thorough beta, as well as brunettepet and merlinsdeheune for their plot hole check and supplementary beta-work. You've all been invaluable and sweet to me! So heaps of hugs!
> 
> (ii) Now coming with photo-manip art by the lovely and kind merlinsdeheune, who made a banner and dino pic which are so fab -- modern and tech-looking -- it's almost like having a bit of the film embedded in the art. Thank you so, so much!

[ ](http://s845.photobucket.com/user/pouletroti/media/Merthur%20poster.jpg.html)

As the lift whirs upwards, Arthur goes over the battle plan for the day. He's got a meeting with the money at ten, one with the security team at eleven, and a Skype call scheduled with his father at midday. As important as sweeping the investors off their feet is, Arthur feels that his father is going to be the toughest nut to crack. He'll never think Arthur's acquitted himself well enough, got enough funding, or managed the park satisfactorily, no matter what Arthur does.

As the lift hits each consecutive floor, digits blare on and off on the display. A ping tolls when the doors open.

Arthur tightens the knot of his tie and steps into the control room. A wall to wall screen reproduces the workings of the main interface. It shows live cam feeds, detailed maps, a break-down of the park's activity peaks as well as asset infographics. If he were to maximise that window, he'd know the heart-rate of the Triceratops and the fluid intake of the Daspletosaurus. Smaller monitors face each working position, where the park employees toil. They replay the main feed as well as give access to the monitoring system and database.

With a quick step, Arthur approaches Gwen's desk. “So how are things going?”

Gwen cranes her neck upwards and says, “Like clockwork, as usual.” She clicks on a display window. “The investors have landed at 9.30. They're going to be at Sunrise Point at 10.”

Arthur's throat works. “Good.”

Gwen chuckles. “Nervous?”

“What, no!” Arthur fiddles with his tie. There must be something wrong with it today. “Whatever reason would I have to be nervous?”

Gwen shrugs. “It's an important meeting. If they pour their money into the park, we can expand. We can triple our assets and fund new rides.”

It isn't as if Arthur doesn't know all that. He's talked about that for months. “Yes. Well, we're well, so there's no reason to be flustered. We have reason to believe we'll get those funds. Today's going to be a walk in the park.” He waggles his eyebrows at that, then sobers. “You're forgetting I've been raised to do this.”

“Oh no. I'm not forgetting that.” Gwen makes a face. “I'm rather concerned about that actually.”

Arthur forces himself to laugh. “Afraid I might dazzle the military people into giving us twice the money we've spoken about?”

“No.” Gwen's lips set in a grim line. “I'm afraid that your perfectionism might tear you down.”

“Perfectionism is just another name for conscientiousness,” Arthur says. “I've got everything under control. There's nothing I haven't double-checked, figures, worst case scenarios, third party investment options. Nothing's going to stop me.”

“What if your father isn't happy with the deal you make?” Gwen asks. “You know how these investor types are. Not to be trusted. Not at all. What if you can't reach a deal? What if--”

Arthur holds one of his hands up. “I've thought of all contingencies.” The only one he refuses to contemplate is his father being disappointed. The man is never happy with Arthur, but lately Arthur's been trying so hard he just can't contemplate failure. He's got this. “I haven't run this park for two years without learning something. I haven't worked my way up Pendragon Inc. without getting a feel for the business. And I assure you I did get more than reasonably by at Oxford.”

“Arthur.” Gwen swivels in her chair. “I wasn't trying to put you down. I know how good you are at your job. I just want you to prepare for the worst case scenario. Truly, I'm only worried about how you'd take it if it didn't go as you expected. But I truly believe you'll convince the lot of them.”

Arthur sticks his chest out. “I don't need to consider total failure because I'll win them over.” He glances at his watch. “Time to go meet the investors from Essetir.”

“Good luck,” Gwen says.

Even though Arthur believes luck has nothing to do with business management skills, he raises his hand in acknowledgement. Before Gwen can finish waving him goodbye, Arthur's already out the room and on his way to the roof to be airlifted to the meeting point.

 

***** 

 

His footfall thundering on metal, Merlin strides across the walkway. He leans against the cement wall, a thick slice of it, and looks into the oval pit. Kilgharrah, Aithusa, Fafnir, Grendel, and Mab look up at the same time, their heads tilted just so, their pupils enlarging upon sight of him.

“They look scary,” Mordred says as he, too, cants his hips at the wall. “And impressive. But mostly scary.”

Merlin studies his charges. Kilgharrah has the thickest skin and the largest neck. Aithusa has the most deep-set eyes and Mab is the fastest. “You're not wrong.”

“I thought you weren't afraid of them,” Mordred says, turning his head to take a look at Merlin rather than at the animals in the pit. "I thought that with them being so similar to dragons, you were familiar with them – could control them.”

At the notion, Merlin snorts and shakes his head. “Those--” He nods his head towards the animals. “Those aren't dragons, Mordred. They share dragon DNA, true enough, but they're not dragons. That means I'm not their 'dragonlord'. I'm more like... their alpha. And even that is at a stretch.”

“No, no, I get it,” Mordred says in a tone that tells Merlin he really doesn't. “Still they obey you.”

“They're wild.” Merlin really thinks that Mordred needs this to be pointed out to him. He'd better learn caution soon. What they do here is rather flashy. Spectators clap when wranglers get close to the beasts they handle. But that doesn't mean the wildlife in their care are tame or that they ought to get complacent. “They know nothing of man. They're genetically enhanced man-made organisms. There are no natural patterns --” Merlin's experience with both dragons and other wild animals has taught him that most species are affected by their environment in a way that parent-less in vitro specimens can't be. “They follow my orders because they don't know real nature, who to turn to.”

“Shouldn't that help us?” Mordred asks. “I mean shouldn't their modified DNA have made them tamer?”

Merlin sometimes feels as if Mordred's too naive for this world. “Corporate wouldn't have wanted them tamer. They would have made them scarier and more ferocious just so they could become the ultimate attraction.”

“Wouldn't that be dangerous?” Mordred's eyebrows push together. “In a park such as this? With crowds as big as ours?”

“Dangerous, perhaps,” Merlin says with a last look at the dinosaurs. Though Merlin can sometimes feel something in him tug when he looks at them, a siren call of recognition, it doesn't feel like the same bond he shares with dragons. There's an unpredictability to this new tie that puts unease in Merlin's bones. “But surely lucrative.”

Before Mordred can reply, Cenred King comes up to them. “So that demonstration?”

“Morning, Mr King,” Merlin says with less enthusiasm than he's been debriefed to show. “Already up and about?”

“The early bird catches the worm.” Sunglasses still on, King shakes Merlin and Mordred's hands. “I've always believed in that maxim.” He takes his shades off and sweeps his gaze around the pen. “So when does the show start?”

“They haven't had breakfast yet,” Merlin says, cocking his head at the animals. “Believe me, you want them to be well fed, if we're to play around with them.”

King snorts. “Why?” His smile narrows into a smirk. “You afraid they're going to be fractious if they haven't had their chow?”

“I--” Merlin starts but before he can finish his sentence, a scream rends the air.

When Merlin leans over the pen parapet, he sees Tyr, one of the trainees, sprawled on the coarse sand of the pen. He's lying flat on his back with his knees up.

At the sound, the dinosaurs perk their heads up and make small noises at each other, small clicks of the tongue and vibrations of the larynx.

Merlin may not understand their language per se, but he's sure the dinosaurs are communicating. And whatever they're saying is not good news for Tyr. Merlin leans over and shouts, “Stay put, Tyr. No sudden moves.”

“Merlin.” Mordred's eyes are wide and his face has drained of all colour. “We have no contingency plan for this!”

“We don't need one,” Merlin says, taking the walkway at a run. Both hands on the metal railing to help him keep his balance, he takes the stairs down three at a time. He jumps into the courtyard before the metal doors barring access to the animals' pen. “Open it!” he shouts.

Mordred yells from atop the catwalk. “Merlin, park officials won't risk you, too.”

“Mordred, you know that I'm the only one who can get Tyr out of there.” Merlin flails his hands wildly to drive the point across. “Tell them to open it.”

“What if we lose you too?”

Merlin's knows the risks he's running. He wasn't holding court on the wildness of dinosaurs for nothing. So, strictly speaking, Mordred doesn't need to remind him. “Tell them to open that door.”

Mordred nods and puts his mouth to his walkie.

Merlin turns around. The first set of doors opens. Merlin walks into the first containment area. He pivots on his heels. “Sound a general alarm if I don't make it back.”

Mordred nods his head and speaks quickly into the walkie.

In a flash of steel catching the light, the gate lurches upwards.

Merlin rolls under it and then fends the air with his arm to indicate they should lower it.

The moment the metal crashes back down, Merlin makes for Tyr. He kneels at his side and pats him down. He checks him over for wounds but sees no blood. If there had been, he'd likely not be alive now. There's nothing like blood to whip the raptors into a frenzy. “Hey, Tyr, any broken bones?”

“No,” Tyr huffs. “Just-- just winded from the fall.”

“Okay, right.” Merlin tips his head the littlest bit up just to make sure the dinosaurs have stayed put. Mab and Kilgharrah have. But Aithusa, Fafnir and Grendel have moved forward. Merlin can see their imprints on the red sand, the shape of the talons etched into the ground. “We've got to get you out of here.”

“I'm not sure I can make it.”

“Can you walk at all?” Merlin squeezes Tyr's arm and helps him sit up. He goes slowly so as not to trigger the dinosaurs into going in attack mode.

“They're going to get us before we can make it to the doors.”

That's a possibility. These dinosaurs are not used to having men gallivanting around them. Aside from, Merlin, occasionally. They are going to react and their reaction is likely going to be violent and hostile. Self-defence mixed with a predator's instincts doesn't exactly make for peaceful interactions. That's not, however, a thought Merlin's willing to contemplate right now. He needs to do his best to sort this and get Tyr out. He can give in to despair later. “I want you to slowly get on your feet – mind you I said slowly – and walk to the door.”

“But it's closed.”

Merlin sighs. “I know. Just do as I say.”

“And what will you be doing?” Tyr asks, his face full of concern.

“Don't worry about me,” Merlin keeps his eyes level on the dinosaurs. “Just, please, listen to me.”

Tyr hoists himself to his feet.

Fafnir takes a forward hop, its snout tilting to the side.

As Tyr backs away, Merlin hauls himself upright too. Once he's vertical, he spreads his hands out, and flexes his shoulders back. He spreads his legs, his boots digging into the compact brown soil, so he's front and centre in the dinosaurs' line of sight.

With a few hops and bounds, they converge into a semicircle.

Merlin hasn't failed to notice there's a pattern to the way the animals have fanned out. With a few leaps they can have him surrounded in seconds.

So much for them being tame.

“Hello, my lovelies.” Merlin makes sure to use the same soft voice he'd address baby dragons with. That usually works. On dragons, but, hell, in for a penny... “I know you want food.--” Merlin's boot slides in the dust as he inches backwards. “But neither Tyr nor I are brekkie.”

Fafnir hisses, baring a set of teeth that however thin are as sharp as a set of Japanese knives, the good ones that cost a hundred quid the lot.

Merlin's always thought Fafnir was the touchiest of the bunch in his charge. “Eyes on me, Fafnir. Eyes on me.”

Fafnir's head snaps in Merlin's direction. Merlin'd feel relief if Aithusa and Mab weren't casing the retreating Tyr with eyes that have become wider with the thrill of the hunt.

“Oi!!” Merlin says, his voice loud and sure. “None of that. Eyes on me.”

Aithusa and Mab look from him to Tyr.

Merlin waves his arms up and down and says, “On me. You know you want to look at me.”

The animals focus their attention on him.

“You trust me, don't you?” Merlin says. “We're pals.” Merlin's raised this bunch. “We've always been.”

Aithusa cocks her head to the right and Mab to the left.

“Good, good, that's how you do it.” Merlin releases some of his power. He knows the creatures he's confronting are not dragons but he hopes their common DNA means that he can influence his behaviour. Even a tiny bit would help here. “You keep your eyes on me.”

Shouts from outside distract the dinosaurs once again and their gaze goes to Tyr. In one leap they could be on him.

There's nothing for it, Merlin shouts, “Open that door! Now!”

The clang makes the raptors leap forwards.

Merlin halts them with a gesture of his spread hands. The raptors turn their snouts in his direction.

“Stay put.” Merlin puts his weight on his back foot. “Stay put.”

When he thinks he's lulled them in a state of relative complacency, he dashes for the gate. Tyr has already made it past it. But the boys from control are already lowering it back down. Merlin pumps his legs and goes down at a skid, gashing his elbows as he rolls under the doors. He feels the air shift right above his head as the metal hatch goes down.

By the time he's made it out of the gate's perimeter, Merlin's breathless.

Mordred rushes to him. “Are you all right?”

“Yeah.” Merlin thinks he is. He'll need a couple of centuries to get over the close call, but overall he calls himself fine. No spilled gut. No chewed upon extremities. He's hunky-dory. “Yeah.”

“Wow, that was--” Mordred starts.

“Exactly what we're looking for,” Cenred King interrupts him, pointing his finger up in the air. “That's what we need.”

Merlin picks himself up and dusts himself off. “What, a stand-off with hungry angry raptors?”

“No.” King flails a hand about. “Men like you. And animals like them who're trained to respond to blokes like you.”

“You've got it all wrong.” Merlin's elbows smart, he's bruised and sweaty and he's come so close to becoming raptor breakfast, he isn't in a mood for mollycoddling King. “They're not trained and I can't control them.”

“You just did.” King smiles. “The Pendragon people keep telling me that it's entirely possible.”

Merlin really wants to punch King in the face – Uther Pendragon would also make it on his hit list – but he knows he won't. He'd lose his job and he can't, not if he wants to keep a close eyes on his raptors. Besides, he's not a fan of violence. He's always frowned on it, well at least ever since finding out what school bullies were and that he didn't appreciate being their victim. “Well, they're business people. They're likely to tell you what you want to hear. If you want the advice of someone used to dealing with unusual creatures, and believe me I've got the track record, then you'll stay away from them.”

“Stay away?” Cenred King hoots. “You must be joking.”

“Not at all,” Merlin says, taking the walk out of the containment centre at a lope. He has little hope of losing King, but he's not in a mood to wait on him hand-and-foot either. Whatever orders from above he's got. “Those beasts are dangerous. You don't want to use them.”

“You don't seem to understand the scope of my mission.” King jogs to catch up with him. “They could be used for a variety of objectives that have nothing to do with people gaping at them in a park.”

Merlin twists around. “People gaping at them in a park is bad enough, wanting to make use of them for any other reason is unspeakably wrong.”

“Why?” King throws his hands up in the air. “Think of real life applications. Especially in the military field.”

“That--” Ever since receiving a mail from Uther Pendragon's London office telling him to make nice with King, Merlin's feared something of the kind.“--is what worries me, Mr King.”

“You don't get it, do you?” King cocks his head to one side. “We're talking about a revolution both in terms of genetic engineering and military tactics.”

“No, I get it.” Merlin lets his distaste for Cenred King show on his face. “It's because I do that I'm telling you to stay away. Now, of course, I can't change your mind.” King is one smug, stubborn bastard, but Merlin has a feeling that the final decision doesn't even rest with the man himself, but rather with his bosses at Essetir. Uther Pendragon's pals. “But I'd be terribly remiss if I didn't warn you off.” He pauses. “You just don't play with nature.”

“This is not playing with nature.” King nocks an eyebrow. “It's crafting a brand new weapon.”

Merlin's shoulders sag. “Right. Well, you'll have to discuss that with the Pendragons.” They might as well be on board with King, Uther, for one, most certainly is, but that isn't on Merlin. Thank God. His one and only responsibility is the welfare of his raptors. “As for me, I have an accident report to write."

Merlin has already turned away, when King calls out, “The offer included you, too. We're aware of your CV at Essetir. You've worked for wildlife parks in Africa, Australia. In Dragon reservations scattered across the US and UK. We know how valuable you are. We can make a... congruent deal.”

What Merlin really wants to say is fuck off. What he does get out is, “I'm sorry. I already have a job.”

“Because the Pendragons are so fair trade,” King shouts after him. “Because their conscience is squeaky clean, is it! Enjoy being a small fish. Stay corporate!”

Merlin isn't in love with his job, not in its current shape or with his current London boss. But he's doing his best by his animals and that's what lets him sleep at night. He certainly wouldn't want to watch and stand by as they're turned into a kind of new ultimate weapon. So he holds his hands up and says, “Goodbye, Mr King.”

 

**** 

Arthur swipes his card along the lock's slot and walks the investors past the open glass doors. When the gaggle of them has gathered in area C, Arthur says, “Now you know all there is to know about our long term expansion plans, our prospective revenues, and current cash in-flow.” Arthur hasn't really gone that deep, is under ordrers not to; he's put out enough basic information to make any investor happy without dishing out corporate secrets. “What you haven't been introduced to yet is our pièce de resistance.”

“There's one?” Mr Fisher asks, a spark of interest showing on his face.

“Yes, indeed there is.” With a swipe of his hand, Arthur activates a 3D hologram animation and steps away. “And it's this.”

“What are we looking at?” Mr Kaminski cleans his glasses on the lapel of his jacket and puts them back on.

“Dinosaur DNA.” Arthur flips the hologram with a gesture of his hand. With another, he shows a section of the genome string. “One you've never looked at before.”

“I don't think I've ever looked at dinosaur DNA before full stop,” says Mr Maxwell. “What makes this one so interesting?”

Arthur is prepared for this question, has been waiting for it since the meeting began. “It's new.”

“Pardon me,” Mr Akiyama says, scrunching his eyes at the projection. “But aren't are all your dinosaurs by definition new? Isn't that your brand? What your family does?”

“Yes.” Pendragon Inc has long been a household name in that regard. Arthur's grown up with the notion that extracting DNA strands from the world's amber deposits, completing them, and incubating living dinosaurs is his family's trademark. “But this one is different. We're not talking about previously retrieved DNA material.”

“Then what are we talking about?” Mr Akyiama asks.

“We've created a new dinosaur.” Arthur turns the hologram around, maximising and highlighting subsections. “One that never existed.”

“Surely you can't mean that.” Mr Kaminski's eyes flare. “You can't just do that!”

“It's exactly what we did however,” Arthur says, shutting down the holo projection. “We fashioned a brand new dinosaur. One that's bigger, faster--” He makes air quotes. “--badder than any dinosaur who's ever actually have existed.”

“You're telling us that you fashioned a life form out of scratch?” Mr Maxwell rubs his chin. “That you made it all up.”

“I'm saying we've engineered the ultimate attraction,” Arthur says, looking at each investor in turn. “I'm telling you that we've topped ourselves in such a fundamental way the world of theme parks will be changed forever.”

A murmur of interest rises among the investors.

Arthur smiles. “Let me just show you how.”

 

“Why?” King throws his hands up in the air. “Think of real life applications. Especially in the military field.”

“That--” Ever since receiving a mail from Uther Pendragon's London office telling him to make nice with King, Merlin's feared something of the kind.“--is what worries me, Mr King.”

“You don't get it, do you?” King cocks his head to one side. “We're talking about a revolution both in terms of genetic engineering and military tactics.”

“No, I get it.” Merlin lets his distaste for Cenred King show on his face. “It's because I do that I'm telling you to stay away. Now, of course, I can't change your mind.” King is one smug, stubborn bastard, but Merlin has a feeling that the final decision doesn't even rest with the man himself, but rather with his bosses at Essetir. Uther Pendragon's pals. “But I'd be terribly remiss if I didn't warn you off.” He pauses. “You just don't play with nature.”

“This is not playing with nature.” King nocks an eyebrow. “It's crafting a brand new weapon.”

Merlin's shoulders sag. “Right. Well, you'll have to discuss that with the Pendragons.” They might as well be on board with King, Uther, for one, most certainly is, but that isn't on Merlin. Thank God. His one and only responsibility is the welfare of his raptors. “As for me, I have an accident report to write."

Merlin has already turned away, when King calls out, “The offer included you, too. We're aware of your CV at Camden. You've worked for wildlife parks in Africa, Australia. In Dragon reservations scattered across the US and UK. We know how valuable you are. We can make a... congruent deal.”

What Merlin really wants to say is fuck off. What he does get out is, “I'm sorry. I already have a job.”

“Because the Pendragons are so fair trade,” King shouts after him. “Because their conscience is squeaky clean, is it! Enjoy being a small fish. Stay corporate!”

Merlin isn't in love with his job, not in its current shape and his current London boss. But he's doing his best by his animals and that's what lets him sleep at night. He certainly wouldn't want to watch and stand by as they're turned into a kind of new ultimate weapon. So he holds his hands up and says, “Goodbye, Mr King.”

 

**** 

Arthur swipes his card along the lock's slot and walks the investors past the open glass doors. When the gaggle of them has gathered in area C, Arthur says, “Now you know all there is to know about our long term expansion plans, our prospective revenues, and current cash in-flow.” Arthur hasn't really gone that deep, is under ordrers not to;, he's put out enough basic information to make any investor happy without dishing out corporate secrets. “What you haven't been introduced to yet is our pièce de resistance.”

“There's one?” Mr Fisher asks, a spark of interest showing on his face.

“Yes, indeed there is.” With a swipe of his hand, Arthur activates a 3D hologram animation and steps away. “And it's this.”

“What are we looking at?” Mr Kaminski cleans his glasses on the lapel of his jacket and puts them back on.

“Dinosaur DNA.” Arthur flips the hologram with a gesture of his hand. With another, he shows a section of the genome string. “One you've never looked at before.”

“I don't think I've ever looked at dinosaur DNA before full stop,” says Mr Maxwell. “What makes this one so interesting?”

Arthur is prepared for this question, has been waiting for it since the meeting began. “It's new.”

“Pardon me,” Mr Akiyama says, scrunching his eyes at the projection. “But aren't are all your dinosaurs by definition new? Isn't that your brand? What your family does?”

“Yes.” Pendragon Inc has long been a household name in that regard. Arthur's grown up with the notion that extracting DNA strands from the world's amber deposits, completing them, and incubating living dinosaurs is his family's trademark. “But this one is different. We're not talking about previously retrieved DNA material.”

“Then what are we talking about?” Mr Akyiama asks.

“We've created a new dinosaur.” Arthur turns the hologram around, maximising and highlighting subsections. “One that never existed.”

“Surely you can't mean that.” Mr Kaminski's eyes flare. “You can't just do that!”

“It's exactly what we did however,” Arthur says, shutting down the holo projection. “We fashioned a brand new dinosaur. One that's bigger, faster--” He makes air quotes. “--badder than any dinosaur who's ever actually have existed.”

“You're telling us that you fashioned a life form out of scratch?” Mr Maxwell rubs his chin. “That you made it all up.”

“I'm saying we've engineered the ultimate attraction,” Arthur says, looking at each investor in turn. “I'm telling you that we've topped ourselves in such a fundamental way the world of theme parks will be changed forever.”

A murmur of interest rises among the investors.

Arthur smiles. “Let me just show you how.”

 

****

 

Merlin puts the plates in the sink and opens the tap. He lets the water run and wash away the worst of the grease. Then he picks up a sponge and the bottle of detergent and squirts its contents onto the dishes. He's about to sponge them clean, when someone knocks on the door to his trailer.

With a sigh, Merlin dumps his sponge, cleans his hands on his shirt and opens the door.

Arthur Pendragon is standing at the bottom of the steps, his hand still formed into a fist. He's has a fine pale three-piece suit that makes him glow against the sun. His shoes, beige suede, stand out in their cleanness. “Merlin--” he licks his lips. “I, uh, need a word with you.”

Merlin's breath stops somewhere south of his throat. “Arthur.” He sidles, shifts his weight. “Um--” he claps his hands together, his palms squeeking. “Feel free to talk away.”

Arthur nods, but he doesn't speak. He looks down rather. Only after he's rubbed at his skull does he say, “I'm not here because of us.” He humphs, stalls, then his jaw stiffens. “I'm not here to pester you with that. I'm enough of a gentleman not to.”

Merlin's face pricks with heat. “Why do you think I would have jumped to that one conclusion?” Arthur's handsome and has enough charm to seduce a dead man. But that doesn't exactly mean Merlin's mind would leap to their past.

Arthur steps back, wanders off onto the plateau Merlin's camper is parked on, and slips his hands into his pockets. “No reason whatsoever.” He shoulders come up in a tight shrug.

Merlin follows him onto the green. “Because that's not what I was thinking.”

Arthur spins sharply round. “I never said that was what you were thinking. I just said we needed to have a discussion.”

“In case I assumed.” Merlin folds his arms across his chest and cocks an eyebrow. “Because that's what I'd be thinking about. Went on a date--” He holds up a finger. “One single date with you and, bam, you think I'd be so moonstruck as to link every single word of yours to that event.”

“That's not what I was thinking at all,” Arthur says, moving his hand through the air in a broad sweep. “I haven't got you on my mind all the time. It's not as if I go through my days thinking of you.” Arthur squares his shoulders. “That's not... That would be pathetic and not what I was doing at all. I was just crossing the Ts.”

Merlin arches an eyebrow.

Arthur drops his arms and says, “I've come in a professional capacity.”

“Oh.”

“Yes, oh.” Arthur matches gazes with him. His is meaningful and scratchy with a kind of electricity Merlin can sense on his skin. “I want you to check something out for me.”

“Something? Something what? You're not being awfully specific.”

“We have a new attraction,” Arthur says. “I want you to check the security side of things.”

“Attraction.” Merlin is neither an engineer nor a security expert so he has no idea why Arthur's asking him. He can't exactly draw the blueprints for a containment pen. “What are we talking about?”

Arthur's gaze searches the ground a moment, then turns back to Merlin. He shrugs. “We have a new dinosaur.”

“Okay.” Merlin nods. “What is it? An iguanodon. We don't have those. A brachiosaurus?”

“No, Merlin.” Arthur's gaze intensifies. “It's a brand new animal.”

Merlin blinks several times. “I'm not sure I get this.”

“We created a new sort of dinosaur,” Arthur says, jaw jutting out. “I want you to check its responses to its surroundings. Try and suss out how it behaves and what kind of security measures we ought to implement. In short, I want you to get a feel for it.”

Merlin freezes, the blood pushing sluggishly and cold in his veins. “Arthur, what the hell are you talking about?”

“I told you--” Arthur steps back and palms his neck, looking away and then at Merlin. “Our scientists cooked up a new creature in the labs. It's fantastic. A beauty. True power in motion. But we don't know how it will respond to its new environment or to people. And frankly I would be more at ease if you had a look at it and told us how to provide for it.”

“You've gone bonkers, haven't you!” Merlin shakes his head, throws his hands up in the air. “You made a new dinosaur. From scratch.”

“Well, yes,” Arthur says, eyes going harder. “We had to. People get bored of the assets after a while. The public needs to be kept in a constant state of awe. In this park business, it's forward motion all the time. We had no other choice but to invest in creating a new dinosaur.”

“So you Frankesteined one!” Merlin can't believe that. Wild animals are dangerous enough when you know everything there is to know about them. Merlin's past is certainly witness to that. Fashioning a new species... That's so wrong. “You don't mess with things like that.”

“We had to!” Arthur's eyes flare. He breathes in and exhales in a rush, his shoulders slumping down. “We had to.”

“How?” Fury fills Merlin's head. “You realise that a lab dinosaur won't have the same DNA as the other dinosaurs. It won't have the same genome. It will have nothing in common with real dinosaurs that once lived and breathed. Most importantly, it won't share the genes that make normal dinosaurs relatives to dragons. I won't be able to have any sway at all over them. God knows it's difficult enough with normal breeds like raptors. But a new animal that lacks all of the genes of a real dinosaur! It's a disaster waiting to happen!”

“Merlin, the park needs a new attraction,” Arthur says, going into fight mode, with his shoulders up and his chest out. “We have wild competition. Out of this world competition. And if we don't do something striking, we'll lose our market share.” He pauses. “I can't fail. I can't botch this up and let my father down.”

“He shouldn't pressure you like that.” Merlin drops his head. It's really sad that Arthur should entertain that kind of thought, believe that falling short of entrepreneurial success is somehow equivalent to disappointing a parent, even if that parent is, strictly speaking, your boss. “Business is business and it's got its ups and down. Your father should understand that and not try and drive you mad.”

“Well, he does,” Arthur says. “And I can't bear disappointing him.”

“You know what happened the last time he tried to get his theme park off the ground.” Merlin has never forgotten the headlines. He might have been a child, but they left a lasting impression. “This is just asking for a repeat scenario.”

“So you're not going to help me?” Arthur lower lip juts out. He nods his head. “I should've known.”

Before Arthur can stalk off, Merlin makes a grab for his arm. “Hey, I didn't say no. I'm just making a point.”

Arthur's face smooths and his eyes brighten, catch the light in a way that makes them look bluer and so honest they pierce Merlin through. “So you're coming?”

“Yes.” Merlin has a feeling he's not going to like whatever Arthur's about to show him. But he can't say no, can't get himself out of the situation. He doesn't know how to because he understands how much this matters to Arthur. They might not have worked as a couple. God, they'd been disastrous, but that doesn't mean Merlin wishes him to plunge into a bottomless pit of worry. Arthur does deserve better. “Yes. Just let me change.”

Arthur arches an eyebrow. “You think the dinosaur is going to judge your fashion sense?”

“Ah, ha,” Merlin says, tugging at his shirt, which still bears stains of barbecue sauce from his lunch. “As it happens, my clothes smell like meal and I don't want to give this new dinosaur of yours ideas.”

“He's surrounded by forty foot high cement walls and tank-proof glass, Merlin.” Arthur says that as if he knows all of the containment unit specs by heart, which he probably does. “It's not as if I'm sending you to commune with it in the wild.”

When he envisions the notion, Merlin's stomach turns a little. “Thank God for that.”

 

***** 

Arthur swipes his ID card down the slot, punches in the code, presses his finger on the pad, and the door slides open.

“Wow,” Merlin says, as he follows him inside, “Three separate ID methods. You couldn't go with just one.” Merlin slips his hands in his pockets and hunches in on himself, looking for all the world less like a trained park-keeper and more like a sulky youth. “Don't you think it's overkill?”

Arthur wants to roll his eyes, pick up on Merlin's teasing and run away with it. But this is not a date, not like that one time. Then he'd allowed himself to tease Merlin, to yank his chain, and retrospectively, perhaps that hadn't been too good an idea. Now he's got to focus on the job, the problem at hand. “We invested £300.000 pounds on security. Both because of espionage and because we're aware of the threat the new dinosaur poses. It's not overkill. It's prudence.”

“Because the dinosaur out there really cares about your being able to identify yourself.”

With a flick of his thumb, Arthur turns the lights on one by one. They illuminate a space fronted with glass walls on one side and whitewashed partitions on the other. At their base, the planks of a wooden floor cross each other. Beyond the glass wall, a stretch of greenery unrolls, bushes and palms trees putting out their branches here and there. It looks like a tropical garden, lush with life and growth. It isn't. Not wholly. “It's because of the personnel,” Arthur says, watching what's going on behind the glass. Nothing seems to. A bee lands on a flower. Sunlight shines off flat leaves. “We can't trust just anybody with the Pendragon Rex.”

“The Pendragon Rex?” Merlin's eyes go to slits. “You named a dinosaur after your own family?”

Merlin's antics ought to irritate Arthur, the way Merlin mocks him, the way he knows how to burrow under his skin. But as much as he tries to whip himself up in a froth of indignation, he can't quite manage to. Merlin's ribbing comes with a side of winning personality that makes it impossible for people to bear a grudge against him. “My father thought it would do the brand good.”

“Talk about delusions of grandeur.” Merlin stations himself close to Arthur. “So what's this baby of yours a mix of?”

“I'm not the one responsible for the science,” Arthur says looking out of the observation tower. “I know that part of his genome is T. rex. I'm afraid I can't talk about the rest.” Even though Arthur's the owner's son, he hasn't got that kind of power of discretion. “It's... confidential.”

“So basically you made a new dinosaur cocktail, but you're not sure what's into it.” Merlin looks at him sideways.

“Not exactly.” Arthur shifts. “It's not my branch anyway. I can follow in theory.” Arthur's made a point of studying some palaeontology and he's got the basics of the process that allows scientists to extract DNA material from Jurassic samples. But he's a business graduate, not a genetics engineer. “Lab people develop the assets, and then we exhibit them.”

Merlin nods, though Arthur can tell the gesture's stiff. That he's not at his ease. “How long has the animal been caged?“

“From his inception.”

Merlin shakes his head. “You know, I've been training animals for a while now, both dragons and more--” He clacks his tongue. “traditional ones, and I can tell you that that's not good. It'll make them nervous, asocial, unable to cope with stress factors.”

“Have you any idea of what looking after an asset of that size and nature and size entails?” Arthur lifts one corner of his mouth. “We can’t exactly have it roam free so he can make nice to the other animals.”

“Alright, but you can't rear animals in complete isolation,” Merlin said, waving his hands as he warmed to his subject. “It's bad form. Alone they don't learn the rules of the game, how to be themselves in nature. We had a bunch of wild lions back in the Zoo in Perth. We made sure they had their pride. And in Wales we always hatched dinosaurs together.”

Arthur rolls his eyes.

“Yes, okay, I'm rambling," Merlin says, “but the point is this--” He points at the containment pen. “-- is not a good idea.

“Your raptors--” Arthur knows what project Merlin's on because his father is interested in it and has direct reports from Merlin's team. His father thinks the raptors will entice the Essetir people somehow. Though Arthur's not so sure how. “They live in containment, too.” God knows they're as strictly guarded as their T-Rex.

“But they're in a group,” Merlin says, making big eyes at him. “They have siblings. They sleep together and eat together- I make sure they're always in contact with one another.” Merlin blushes scarlet. “Besides, they've imprinted on me.”

“I'm sure no one's had P-rex imprint on them.”

“Probably not.” Merlin chuckles. “So where's this new mythic beast of yours?”

“Somewhere out there.” Arthur gestures at the pen stretching out beyond the observation tower. “Do you want me to get him here?”

“Yes.” Merlin's face loses its humour lines and sets itself in a much starker, sterner expression. “Let's get to know this Pendragon Rex of yours.”

Arthur lifts the radio to his mouth and says, “Ewan, lure the Pendragon Rex out.”

“Yes, sir,” Ewan's tinny voice comes over the radio. “Will do.”

A large chunk of beef hooked to a cable system comes to dangle over the Pendragon Rex's pen.

“Is that choice beef?” Merlin squints at the meat.

“Ox,” Athur tells him, his lips quirking up. “A whole one.”

“Your Pendragon Rex doesn't seem to like it though,” Merlin says, folding his arms. “He's not coming out to play.”

“That's strange.” Arthur leans closer to the window. He sees nothing, not the animal himself, nor hints as to his presence close to the observation point. No crushed leaves, no imprints, no broken branches. “He's always hungry.”

Merlin whistles. “Is he now?”

“Yes.” Arthur steps closer to the glass. Ground vibrations are generally forerunners of the dinosaur's appearance. But this time Arthur can't feel them. “This is wrong.”

“What is?”

“He's not turning up,” Arthur tells Merlin. Into the radio, he says, “Ewan, have you a visual of the Rex?”

“No, sir.” The answer is clear. There's no static to mar it. “I can't see him.”

Arthur tears himself away from the window and crosses the room. He opens a panel on the wall. He thumbs a series of buttons and gets at the heat scanner readings. They show a map of the Rex's compound. All areas shine blue and green. Arthur stomach free-falls and a cold wave dizzies him. He sweeps the chill sweat off his brow and takes a second look. None of the readings is compatible with the usual data. “Merlin,” Arthur says, his throat working, “can you come here and check this?”

Merlin saunters over. “What am I looking at?”

“Containment pen heat scan,” Arthur says, unable to take his eyes from it.

“There's something wrong with it,” Merlin says. “Where's the dinosaur?”

“That's the rub, Merlin.” Arthur massages his brow. “There's no dinosaur in the pen.”

“Has someone had had him transferred?”

Arthur's jaw clenches. “No. I'm the one responsible for park management. Everything from supplies to asset relocation is up to me. The P-Rex is supposed to be in there.” Arthur lifts the radio to his mouth. “Ewan, the Rex seems to have left the premises. Can you establish where it's left from?” There has to be some way. If they stay calm, and go about this in a reasoned way, no problem need arise. “That way we can track him faster.”

Ewan aquiesces and the intercom crackles with his words.

Staring at the empty pen, Arthur says, “I should go too.”

Merlin grabs him by the arm. “Not without me.”

“No.” Merlin's not trained for retrieval operations and neither is he paramilitary. And though he has the CV of a professional – Arthur's read it through and through before pushing for Merlin with his father – Arthur's not risking him like that. “Ewan's trained for emergencies. You're not.”

Merlin clamps a hand round his arm. “You're going though.”

“That's different,” Arthur says, gritting his teeth as he faces round and sees the pen. “I'm responsible for this place.”

“But you're a white collar! While I have actual field experience.” Merlin grimaces. “With all kinds of shit, believe me. So either you punch the living daylight out of me so you can stop me or it's the two of us on this jaunt.”

Arthur wants to argue. He wants to tie Merlin hands and feet and make sure he stays safe inside. But he has no time to even try. He has an emergency on his hands and it must be attended to. In terms of health and safety, this is like the apocalypse. “All right, but watch out.”

“Will say the same to you.”

 

***** 

The pen is silent. Green shimmers in waves borne on sunlight. Palm fronds shoot up for the sky and fan outwards. Of the Pendragon Rex there's no trace.

Arthur's radio crackles and Merlin hears the words, “Sir, the reading I'm getting is worrying.”

Arthur's eyebrows knit together and he looks at Merlin. To the man on the radio, he says, “What reading?”

“The doors to the compound,” Ewan says. “They show as open on my device.”

“Shit.” Arthur lifts his gaze to Merlin. “Um, do not move. We'll be there in a moment. Do you copy?”

“Yes, sir.”

Arthur tears off at a run, disappearing into the vegetation.

“We said we'd do this together!” Merlin says before starting at a jog after Arthur.

At first Merlin can't see Arthur. He's virtually disappeared into a wall of greenery, surrounded by tall shrubs and thick trunks. He runs faster then, pushing his legs into a more punishing rhythm, his arms pumping. He catches a glimpse of Arthur, glimmers of his pale clothing. It's something to zero in on as he launches himself through the foliage. It whips at him and there are cuts on his hands and face but he keeps going all the same. He can't not. He starts sweating and his heart begins to race in a tempo he can feel in his throat. He turns right and then left and runs, until the vegetation grows sparser and he can make out the grey mass of the perimeter wall.

It glints in the sunlight, 15 feet tall. The main doors are sealed seamlessly shut.

“Arthur,” Merlin shouts, wanting to ask if perhaps there's another door Ewan might have been referring to.

Arthur turns around. His forehead is shiny with sweat and his shirt has acquired a number of wrinkles that hadn't there before. “It's closed.”

“Yeah, I can see that.”

“The P-rex can't have got out,” Arthur tells him, looking round. “This means he must still be in.”

Merlin's blood chills him from the marrow outwards. “Do you mean to say we're in the pen with the Pendragon Rex?”

“Yes, Merlin,” Arthur says, his voice going up. “That's exactly what I'm trying to say.”

Before Merlin can truly let himself feel what that implies, a stirring of leaves catches his attention. He spins round and focuses on the movement. Leaves tremble and shake. They rustle but there's no breeze. Merlin watches them lift and sink back into place and feels his skin roughen into goose bumps.

A man stumbles out of the vegetation. He's tall and broad shouldered, wearing overalls and a tense expression. “The outer control panel is shot, sir. The wires were downright ripped out of it. That's why we got the wrong readings.”

“Ripped out?” Arthur asks.

“Wrenched away.” Ewan nods as he jogs over to them.

Merlin frowns, bites his lip, then, out of the most profound conviction, he tells Arthur, “It's no coincidence. He did it on purpose. The dinosaur short circuited the system himself.”

“It's impossible.” Arthur scans the pen. “He can't have done.”

“You said it yourself.” Merlin couldn't forget Arthur's words. “You made a scary dinosaur of whose DNA you don't know everything.”

“It was just meant be bigger and scarier.” Arthur's eyes round.

“And cleverer.”

The lines around Arthur's mouth tighten. He's about to say something, clearly poised for speech, when they hear a crash.

They whip round at the same time, their gaze focused in the same direction. Above the canopy of trees rises the head of the tallest dinosaur Merlin's ever seen. And he's got used to quite a few of them recently. The P-rex's eyes are glassy, framed by a wide horizontal pupil. His skin, scaly and tough, is of an indeterminate grey colour that verges on brown. His teeth glint in the sun and are as long as sabres. He shifts on one foot, then the other, stirring the trees.

When Ewan sees it, he starts to run like a hare, shouting, “It's behind us. Run!”

As Ewan scuttles ahead, the dinosaur takes a step that brings him past the wall of foliage. It makes the ground shake.

Merlin grabs Arthur by the shoulder and starts running, too. Arthur takes to rushing beside him without a protest. Not that Merlin thinks anyone would be mad enough to stay for a chat with a wild, newly minted dinosaur. They go as fast as they can, their feet barely hitting the ground. As the dinosaur lumbers on at a thundering pace, they swerve sideways and dive back into the tangle of wild growth that overruns the pen. They go down and flatten themselves to the ground. Merlin can feel Arthur's breath on his face. He can taste it. It's fresh like toothpaste with a sweet tang to it. When Merlin had kissed Arthur, they were on a terrace overlooking the sea, and Arthur had had the flavour of beer and too many tall tales on his tongue. This is different and quite heady. And exactly the wrong kind of thought to entertain when he's being chased around by a fifty-feet tall hungry dinosaur. What the fuck.

The ground shakes with every step the beast takes. It feels like it's about to gape open any moment.

Merlin cautiously looks up from behind the shield of a fern. He can see the beast, his long back, his powerful haunches and tapering tail.

“Where's Ewan?” Arthur asks.

“I don't know,” Merlin says, just before he claps eyes on him again. He's running, elbows back and knees out. “There, there he is.” Merlin doesn't dare move to point him out to Arthur but perhaps Arthur's seen him too. “Why isn't he doubling back?” There's only the perimeter wall in front of him with sealed cement doors. He's going to have to stop at some point and hiding seems like a much better plan than running pell mell with no cover. If the P-rex is anything like the raptors, he will latch on anything that moves. “Where the hell is he going?”

“He's making for the door.” Arthur sways squinting past the net of leaves they're hiding behind.

Merlin leans up, too. “But they're closed. What good's that going to do?” Though he shouldn't with a dinosaur out on the hunt, he springs upright and waves his hands about. “Ewan, come here. We're here. Come hide with us.”

Ewan keeps running in a straight line, paying no heed to him.

Arthur stands. “What the hell.” Arthur cups his hands around his mouth. “Ewan!”

The dinosaur catching up on him, Ewan reaches the wall, staggers along its length, slams his hands against it. Then he takes something from his belt. It's a knife, its blade reflecting the sunlight. He stabs it into a panel placed at shoulder height and slashes through the wiring.

“Oh God.” Arthur rakes both hands through his hair. “He's slashing at the pen's manual controls.”

“Does that mean that....” Merlin trails off as he sees the containment gate tremble open. “Oh shit. He's going to loose the Rex on the park.”

Arthur shouts, “Ewan, no!”

By then Ewan has already slipped between the swinging cement doors.

The dinosaur lumbers after him.

“We've got to stop him!” Merlin says, though he has no idea how. “We can't have a beast of prey taking strolls in a park full of people.”

“I know, Merlin.” Arthur takes hold of his radio, selects a channel with a swipe of a finger, and speaks into it. “Control centre, it's Arthur Pendragon. We have a high priority emergency. I repeat, we have a high priority emergency.”

 

***** 

Moving in Ewan's wake, they rush out of the pen. An asphalt covered piazza extends outside it. Trees with wide leafy canopies cluster together at one end of it. Three jeeps stand stationary in different corners. One is tall and green, parked at the base of one of the thickest trees. The other is the one Arthur and Merlin came with. It hides in the shadows of the piazza. The third one is an older Land Rover that sits on a low stretch of pavement. Merlin swings his head from side to side but can't spot Ewan.

Arthur points to their car. “There, he's hiding under it.”

“I don't know much about this new dinosaur concoction of yours, but I'm not sure you can fool him for long.”

As if the dinosaur were really in a mind to prove Merlin right, he roars, and comes stumbling forward. He eradicates a tree from its root and sends it flying away. He stops then, sniffs the air, and turns.

Merlin's blood runs cold. He can't say for certain but he has a feeling, a notion that's all in the guts, that he knows what the Pendragon Rex is about to do. It stills his heart and clouds his brain. He watches, limbs heavy, as the Rex paws at their car, which Ewan is hiding under. He flips it over as if it weighed nothing, leaving Ewan without a shield. “No, please, no! Nooo!” Ewan says, putting his hands up.

The P-rex swipes at Ewan, tosses him in the air, and chomps down on him. The snap of his bones resounds across the piazza. 

Nausea tears at Merlin's insides and hollows his legs. It's like falling back into a crease in time, like getting back there, being imprinted with the same sense of groundlessness and horror. He tastes the bile on his tongue and the sounds echo through his mind. They stretch and thin and become… this is not right.

He'd been unable to save an innocent. Trained as he is, he's once more come short of helping when it matters most. He can't let it happen again. He casts one look at Arthur and moves. He jumps up and down, waving his hands in the air. “Oi, big dino,” he shouts. “Come and get me.”

The P-rex sniffs the air, and then whips his head around.

The dinosaur is staring right at him.

“Merlin,” Arthur hisses, tugging on his arm to pull him away from the piazza. “That's not going to help!”

The dinosaur turns, cocks his head to the side in a move that reminds Merlin of his raptors, and brings his big snout round.

“Christ,” Arthur pulls at Merlin. "We've got to move.”

Merlin's legs are heavy and he can't move them. “No, I--” There must be something he can do. Maybe if he gets in touch with his dragonlord powers, there's a chance he could tame the Pendragon Rex. “I should--”

“Merlin.” Arthur places both hands on Merlin's neck and stares into his eyes. “We've got to get away from that dinosaur. Get that?”

Merlin does. But there's something in him that wants to process what he's seen, come to terms with it. “But--”

“Merlin, people depend on us,” Arthur tells him. “If we don't warn them, the park could turn into a slaughterhouse.”

“Right. We should get another car.” They can't outrace a dinosaur without one. Even with one, it's going to be tough.

“Yes. There's one in the piazza. Come on.”

Together they rush towards the old Land Rover. Arthur opens the door and climbs behind the wheel. “There's only a problem,” he says, staring at the windscreen. “We don't have keys.”

“Lucky I can hot wire a car.” Merlin kneels on the asphalt and pushes his hands past Arthur's legs. He removes the access panel from the steering column and pulls out the battery, ignition, and starter wire bundle.

“You sure you know how to do that?” Arthur says. “Because the P-rex is coming this way.”

Merlin strips the insulation layer away from the battery wires and twists them together. “Of course I am.”

“I suggest you do it quickly then.”

“Trying to.” His hands tremble as he tries to connect the ignition wire to the battery wire. The bloody wires are small and his hands large. One wrong move and he could electrocute himself. He can feel the P- Rex advancing on them. “These aren't optimal conditions.”

“Because people hotwire cars in optimal conditions.”

Merlin peels off the plastic from the starter wire and sparks it against the battery wires. “You've always got to have the last word, don't you?”

Arthur revs the engine and the car starts. “Yes, that's exactly what I'm doing. Not because it's a bleeding emergency.”

Merlin's hands tremble around the wires but he's considerably closer to his goal. His finers prickle from the charge of the wire. “Put something in the ignition that'll work like a key.”

Arthur pops off the keyhole with the blade of a swiss knife. The spring gives and the lock breaks.

“Remind me to ask you why you had that on you,” Merlin says, as he extricates himself from his position at Arthur's knees.

Arthur gets the car into gear. “I like being prepared."

Merlin races round the moving car. He glances back at the dinosaur. The P-rex twists around just in time to offer a marrow curdling visual. Blood smears his snout and bits of clothes stick out from between his massive fangs. Merlin taps the jeep's roof, says, “Go, boy scout, go,” and hops into his seat.

Arthur harrumphs as the car speeds up.

Merlin looks in the side mirror. He can see the Rex waddle forward, front legs out, hind ones propelling him into a jog. “Go faster,” he shouts. “He's coming after us.”

“I'm going as fast as I can, Merlin!”

The car crashes along the street, jumping over the bumps in it, and it seems to be gaining ground, but Merlin keeps seeing flashes of scaly skin in the rear-view mirror. Part of him doesn't want to acknowledge that the P-rex hasn't given up. If anything, the dinosaur is running faster.

The ground shakes and the car swerves.

Arthur wrestles with the wheel. “Shit.”

A clawed paw lands on the ground in front of them, forming a hollow in it, and Arthur spins the wheel all the way right. The car bumps into the dinosaur's leg with a crash. Merlin tosses in his seat. He grabs for the handles but he loses his grip when they bump through a pothole created by the dinosaur's lumbering mass. Before he can grab for something to hold onto, the P- Rex sends them hurtling forwards. Merlin feels when the wheels skid, when the jeep tilts at an angle

Pain lances through his skull and he gets dizzy with it. He bashes his knee too. He's barely gritted his teeth, when he realises it's the car's roof he's knocked his lower body against. By the time he's ridden the first wave of pain, the car screeches. When it crashes into a tree, Merlin sighs and loses consciousness.

 

*****

 

Arthur blinks twice, waits for his vision to settle into more than blurry spots of colour, and presses his hand against his forehead. The heel of it slips on something sticky and wet. When Arthur looks at his palm, he sees blood. It's dark and drying, clearly old. The knowledge that he isn't bleeding freely helps settle the unease in his gut though it doesn't erase it completely. It doesn't tell him where he is or why he was hurt at all.

He focuses on his surroundings. Smashed glass faces him. It's part of the windscreen of a car, one not his own. Some shards have rained inside and now litter the dashboard. On his left side, ferns push at the car window. There are fracture lines in the glass and it looks as if it's about to cave in.

Mindful of how heavy his head feels, Arthur eases it to the right. Merlin lies crumpled on the seat next to him, eyes closed, face grey.

Cold claws at Arthur's heart and brain. He touches a shaky hand to Merlin's shoulder and Merlin moans. Arthur heaves a sigh. “Merlin, come on. Merlin!”

Merlin's eyelids quiver and he centres his unfocused gaze on Arthur. “What--”

Arthur's heart starts again. “We had an accident.”

Merlin sits up. “The dinosaur.” He glances around, trying to see past the broken windows and the layers of vegetation that crowd the jeep. “He's still at large, isn't he?”

Arthur can't be positive but if he remembers right – and he's starting to – there's every reason to think the Pendragon Rex is still in the wild. “Yes. I don't think he got himself back to his pen like a good boy.”

Merlin closes his eyes and exhales. “No, no you're right. If he's anything like the other dinosaurs, he'll be on the hunt, wanting to provide for himself.”

“Yeah. Probably,” Arthur is no palaeontologist – not that that has any bearing with their experience with live dinosaurs, – but it doesn't take a genius to guess the dinosaur's next move.

“He's never hunted before though so he'll be desperate and therefore more... cruel.”

“Right.” Arthur can only imagine what that means in predator terms and he doesn't like the conclusions he comes to. “We've got to get back to headquarters before he develops a taste for humans.”

“Yes.” Merlin nods his head and winces when he does so. “The problem's how.”

Arthur's got no idea either. They're in the middle of nowhere. With their own car gone, they have no sat nav, compass or map. And no vehicle to ferry them across. As if that were not enough, the Rex is still out there, lurking in the woods. “It doesn't matter how.” Arthur shoulders the car door in an attempt to get it to budge. “I need to warn my people and make sure they get to safety.”

“Arthur,” Merlin says, touching his hand to Arthur's forehead, “are you sure you're alright?”

Arthur swallows, feels heat scorch the skin of his face and neck. He's not sure whether it's Merlin's touch that's making him warm or if he's just set to combusting all by himself. Either way it doesn't matter, he's got to think about his next move, his responsibilities. “I'm fine.”

“This,” Merlin says, rubbing drying flakes of blood between his fingers, “doesn't scream fine to me.”

Arthur grabs Merlin's hand. The imprint of Merlin's palm burns and he commits it to memory. He feels the shape of it with every bone in his own hand. He drowns in his sense of his warmth and solidity, He holds on long enough to realise what he's doing and to feel wrong footed about it. He lets go, draws back. “It's just a scratch.” He opens and closes his hand, looks for traces of Merlin's touch. “I can't allow it to slow me down. I've got to stop the Pendragon Rex.” The fact it bears Arthur's family name makes it fairly and squarely his business. “This is on me, Merlin.”

Though there's no reason for it, Merlin smiles at him, wide, a dimple hollowing his cheek. “I just want you to be okay.”

“I thought you hated me.” Arthur doesn't know why he says that. He doesn't even think it's true. They'd simply locked horns because of the kind of people they are. Merlin's not really spiteful and Arthur can appreciate that. “Wouldn't be you be happier if this was my downfall? If karma punished me for my 'thoughtless corporate ways'?”

“I never hated you!” Merlin reddens. “I disagreed with you. You and your charismatic, richer than Croesus entrepreneur schtick. But that's neither here nor there now, is it? We've got to sort this mess out first. And try not to get killed in the bargain.”

“You don't need to come.” Merlin could hide in the car until Arthur sends a team to rescue him. “You can--”

“I won't--” Merlin's eyes narrow and flash. “I won't stay here while you go and risk your life.”

“It's my duty to--”

Merlin steamrollers right over him. “Not when I'm the one with the dragonlord powers.”

“Which are irrelevant considering that the Pendragon Rex has no dragon DNA.”

“And not when you're in danger.” Merlin's voice starts at a high peak and then fizzles out. His bites his lip and looks away. “I'm not letting you die.”

Arthur can look after himself, that he's been trained to deal with emergencies, but the words bunch in his mouth and won't come out. He feels heavier with them, but also lighter with something else he can't name. He doesn't smile, though he feels the stretch of it under his skin, at the side of his mouth and around his eyes. “Nor will I let you.”

“Good.” Merlin humphs.

“Good!”

“Um...” Merlin's eyes rove around. “Shall we get going?”

“Yes, but let me contact Gwen first.” He unhooks his walkie from his belt and turns it on. When he gets a crackle of static, he radios her. “Gwen, I want you to start evacuation procedures.”

Merlin nods at him, something about his features relaxing. It's not really a smile, but Arthur thinks that in other circumstances it would be.

“I can't do that without your father's approval,” Gwen tells him. “It's the procedure.”

“I'm the park's chief admin.” Arthur looks away from Merlin. “If I say this needs to be done, then I want it done.”

“Arthur, you know I would start the procedure myself in a moment,” Gwen tells him. “But the park is basically run by computers and I can't override the system without Uther's passwords.”

“Shit.” Arthur knows his father; understands that he won't be easily persuaded to shut the park. “I'm going to try and contact him.” He wonders what time it is in the UK now. “Meanwhile try and override the system. Hack it. I don't care how you do it. Just do it.”

“Roger.” Gwen's voice crackles over to him. “I'll start working on the system ASAP.”

Arthur pockets the radio and tells Merlin, “Let's go.”

 

***** 

They step into high grass, the blades brushing against the back of their legs. Trees surround them in every direction. They're tall and thick, their trunks equally rugged and overgrown with tropical moss and liverworth. They're all identical too and no help deciding which way is north.

“Let's go that way,” Arthur says, pointing to his left.

“Let's try that track,” Merlin says at the same, gesturing in the direction opposite the one Arthur chose.

Arthur rakes his hand through his hair. He's unbuttoned his shirt and his jacket, formerly white.

"Look, let's just get to a clearing. That way we can see where the sun is and work out where north is from there.”

They walk awhile, ears pricked against the noises of the forest. Merlin's feet ache and his lower back twinges. The air around them goes hotter and the foliage starts drooping with it. They find a water course. and follow it upstream till the vegetation grows sparse; they stumble onto a ravine.

They have a view of the valley below. It extends in all directions, green hills capped by steely grey mountains. A glass dome breaks up the vista. Merlin squints and strains his eyes but can't make out what the construction is. He can only tell that P- Rex is trundling towards it. “Where the hell is he going?”

“The Aviary,” Arthur says, shielding his eyes against the glare of the sun. “It's full of Pterodactyls. They're the winged--”

“Ones, I know.” Like many a child, Merlin had devoured dinosaur books in his youth. Back then, the craze caused by the opening of the first Pendragon park had been in full swing. None of the fallout that followed the incident that caused its shut down had started either. So publications had run wild on the topic.bMerlin had become fairly knowledgeable on the subject. It was one of the reasons, together with his dragonlord powers, he'd become an animal trainer. “I read up about it.”

“Well, sorry if I assumed you were better versed on the subject of dragons.”

Merlin smiles.

“What?” says Arthur.

“Nothing.” Merlin's not sure he wants Arthur to understand what's going on his head. He's not wholly positive he gets it himself. “Nothing.”

Arthur starts to smile but he loses it and blanches instead. Before Merlin can ask what's wrong, he says, “He's crashing into it. The Pendragon Rex is charging into the dome.”

Merlin shields his eyes and peers into the distance. “Fuck it, you're right. He must have thought we weren't worth hunting so he's trying for bigger prey.”

The glass dome breaks. The Pendragon Rex paws inside it. The pterodactyls screech and wheel around. The P-Rex clutches at handfuls of them. He tears their wings apart and shoves whole birds in his mouth by the dozen. Those he doesn't eat, he just claws open.

“He's killing for fun,” Merlin says. “He's not even eating them all.”

The Pterodactyls that manage to escaoe the clutches of the Pendragon Rex fly around his outstretched paw and brush past shard of glass to gain their freedom. At first, they hover round the dome in clusters, circling round it, but then they gather in formation and make for the wild.

Arthur grabs Merlin by the shirt and backtracks. “They're heading here. We need to run for cover!”

 

**** 

 

Headquarters bustles with people. Techies sit behind the screens of their devices. Admins move around bearing folders and wearing distinctively office-geared garb. Monitors flash with images and blink with ever-changing swathes of data. Lights blare on in pools of white and soft blue.

The glass doors swish open as Arthur and Merlin stumble into the main control room.

“Gwen,” Arthur says, wishing he could stop panting and deliver his message properly, “have you managed to ovveride the park's security system?”

Gwen swivels her chair round to face him. “No, not yet. I need more time.”

“Connect me with my father.”

“There's a problem with that.” Gwen wrings her hands. “I tried him already and he says the park will stay operative. He then turned off his mobile. I can only get his voicemail.”

“Try this number,” Arthur says, reciting his father's personal one. It was meant never to get out but this is an emergency and Arthur's going to stop at nothing to solve it. “And then hand me those earphones.”

Father answers on the third ring. “I don't know where you got this number from, but your having found it won't change my mind as to the orders I gave you, Miss Smith.”

“It's Arthur, father,” Arthur says, walking away from the central bay. “I'm just back from a run in with the Pendragon Rex. It's...” He swallows as he processes it. “It's a miracle I'm actually alive to tell the tale.”

“That's neither here nor there, Arthur,” Father tells him. “You're safe now. All this talk of shutting down the park is hysteria talking.”

“Father--” Arthur doesn't really understand how his father can think that, downplay it so much. Arthur's sure that if he'd seen what Arthur had, then he'd change his mind. “It's not hysteria. There's a massive dinosaur roaming free out there. He's already killed one person, started preying on animals, and freed a number of pterodactyls.” If that doesn't give rise for concern – for panic – Arthur has no idea what will. “We have more than one deadly predator running around. They're in the wild now, but might turn around at any moment and reach any of the park areas frequented by tourists. If they do, it'll be a massacre.” As he paces, Arthur runs a hand down his face. “There's children out there. We must evacuate.”

“You don't have my permission to do that,” Father says. “Contain the threat and save the asset. You have armed para-military security to do that. Only as a last resource do you have my authorisation to put down the Pendragon Rex.”

“No, you don't get it.” During his trek back to headquarters, he's considered the situation from any possible angle. He's had leisure to, given he had a nine mile traipse. And while he can figure why Father doesn't want to put years of hard work on the line, understanding only goes so far. “There are people out there. People we're responsible for. People who are at the mercy of beings they're not prepared to face. Creatures that haven't walked the earth for millions of years. It's up to us to make sure they get home safe.”

“You're not to close the park.” Father's voice sounds clipped and flat. “I repeat, you're not to close the park.”

Arthur once swore to himself that he would never talk about it with his father. But now he can't do anything else; he's been left with no choice. “Father, we're retreading history here. This is exactly what happened when I was a child.” Of course, Arthur hadn't been around at the time. He'd been at school in England.

But as an adult he'd made sure to learn the facts. The moment he'd started working at Pendragon Inc., he'd looked into the truth. “The animals got out of control then. It's happening now, too.” His voice frays and he doesn't want it to but it just does. “It's what killed Mother.” Arthur's throat works and he looks into the distance against the moist heaviness that gathers in his eyes. “Father, we must stop this so other people won't suffer the way we did, so that--”

There's a little sound on the line, something Arthur's not certain is a mechanical fault, and then Father says, “Your mother has nothing to do with this. Don't you dare bring her up. You will do as I say or else, Arthur...”

Arthur has long since learnt not to antagonise his father when he's this angry, this brusque, but he eggs him on now. “Or else what?”

“Or else the job's no longer yours.” Father hangs up.

Arthur's left staring in the void, not sure he's heard right. When he comes to terms with what his father said, it's to find a roomful of people staring at him. “We will try and override the system so we can start evacuation procedures. In the meantime I want you, Sophia, to make a general announcement. You'll tell people to gather in....”

Arthur tries to think of a place that will be safe from the dinosaurs.

Merlin comes up to him, his gaze meeting Arthur's. “How about the Discovery Centre?”

“Yes.” Arthur nods at Merlin.“Yes, that's perfect. We'll have security guards escort them to the evacuation points.” He turns to Gwen. “Get a team to prepare an announcement to be read out on loudspeakers. Make sure it's carefully worded so we don't incite a panic.”

Arthur's still thinking up orders to give, when Cenred King bursts into the room. He looks dishevelled, there's blood on his neck, but that doesn't stop him from strutting up to Arthur and saying, “You're forgetting something. Dinosaurs are on the loose.”

“I haven't forgotten it.” Arthur is painfully aware of their existence. “If we evacuate, we might as well cede the field to them. They're not to blame for their predatory instincts and they can do no harm if no one's around.”

“That's absurd,” King says, dabbing at his neck wound with his hand. “You can't leave them hopping around. They're too dangerous.”

“To whom exactly?”

Cenred blinks.

“What if someone gets to the island after you've evacuated it,” Cenred says, light burning in his eyes. “What if a troop of fishermen lays anchor here? Or holiday makers? There were before you turned this place into a holiday joint, you know. Before your father bought the island wholesale.”

“That isn't a consideration we can entertain in a state of emergency,” Arthur says. They can monitor the island later when they're sure no one's in immediate danger.

Merlin steps into the fray too. “You're only saying that because you're raring to send your men out there to test whatever you want to test.”

“Well.” Cenred shrugs his shoulders. “It's not my concern what you do with your little predator out there.” It seems as if he's done, but then he says, “He might only feast on all the herbivores he finds on the island.” He clacks his tongue. “Or he might find a way to migrate and then... and then we'd have a dinosaur walking through populated areas, again.”

Arthur dips his head. “Let's send a team of security to despatch the Pendragon Rex.”

 

[ ](http://s845.photobucket.com/user/pouletroti/media/P-Rex%20manip%20wall.jpg.html)

**** 

 

They have a live feed of the action. It comes from the cams embedded in the security guys' headgear. It's shaky and the quality nothing good. But they can still see enough to make out what's going on.

A line of paramilitary personnel sit in line on a lorry bench. When the vehicle comes to a halt, they all jump out of it. The camera catches a swathe of sky and one of hard lumps of soil. A voice shouts out orders.

“We're tracking the beast,” says the troop leader. “Our mission is to surprise and kill it.”

A murmur of agreement rises among the troop.

“Aim your weapons at the core of the beast,” the troop leader says. “Don't bother with extremities such as arms and legs. We want it dead fast.”

Several voices join in saying, “Yes, sir.”

“And watch your backs, everyone.”

The security squad proceeds into the heart of the forest. Merlin catches sight of tree trunks and sweeps of greenery. They flash past in a blur of russets and emeralds before settling into a steadier image.

For a while, the feed shows nothing but swatches of tropical forest and the occasional tense face. But then the normal sounds of marching give way to loud shouts. The cam bearer looks from side to side and the image breaks up into a sea of blurry pixels. The audio is tell-tale however. Screams pierce the air, panting, someone running. The video quality deteriorates again. It's mostly swatches of brown now. But Merlin can still hear the thundering of the dinosaur in the background coupled with the yells of the members of the security squad.

He watches a side monitor. It shows a map of the area the security team was patrolling and a variety of red dots representing the soldiers on the ground. As the screams increase in pitch and the video gets blotchier, dots go out one by one. It takes a few seconds for Merlin get it, and when he does, his heart breaks.

“We've got to rescue them,” Arthur says, looking to each one of the people present in the control room at headquarters. “We can't let them be slaughtered like that!”

Merlin nods vehemently. Perhaps there's something he can do. Perhaps his dragonlord powers have a chance of working on a lab dinosaur. Maybe he can spare one life. Just one. Like the one he didn't protect back in Perth.

Cenred shakes his head. “There's nothing we can do for those guys. It's too late.”

Arthur whirls on him. “How can you say that with so much indifference?”

“Easily,” Cenred says. “There's no time to abort the mission anymore. The P-Rex's already got to them.” He arches an eyebrow at the screen where the last red dot phases out. “We must change plans.”

“I think we've already sacrificed too many lives. ” Arthur sticks his chest out and it brushes against Cenred's. “We're focusing on evacuating.”

“So you're leaving the island prey to that thing!” Cenred stabs the air with his finger. “That's what you're doing!”

Merlin's shoulders slump and his hands come up to cover his mouth and as he watches the dark screen, tears come to his eyes.

 

***** 

“You can't do it!” Arthur follows Merlin down the stairs.

“Just watch me,” Merlin says as he walks into the armoury.

“You're playing into King's hand.” Arthur puts a hand out so the armoury door won't shut in his face. “You realise that, don't you?”

Merlin whirls round. “Of course I do.” He opens his mouth as if to say more but he takes a big breath instead. “He's been wanting to lay his hands on my raptors all this time. I get that. But there's a chance they can really help, and if they can, I want to be out there.”

“Why?” Arthur widens his eyes and smacks a hand against his temple. “It makes no sense!”

“Because if he's to use my raptors--” Merlin glares at him. “--I want to make sure they come out of this unhurt.”

“That's not all there is to it.” If Arthur can read expressions, then Merlin's furtive and subdued enough. Merlin's bristling with tension and he won't raise his eyes to meet Arthur's. “Is there? There's something you're not telling me and I don't appreciate it. Not in this situation.” If they can't trust each other in an emergency like this, then when can they? “We need to be honest to each other or we won't get out of this.”

Head down, Merlin nods. “Back when I worked in Perth, one of the wild cats, a beautiful black panther I was looking after, killed one of my trainees.” Merlin gulps. “His name was Daegal and he... He was just eager to learn, to do what I did, get into the cage with the feral cats and have a more hands-on approach.”

“And he went behind your back?” Arthur guesses.

“No.” Merlin bites his lip. “He begged me. For months. I kept saying no. I take risks because I know what I'm doing. I took even more then because, well, I'd raised those animals.”

Arthur inclines his head. “It takes an awful lot of bravery.”

“Or stupidity.” Merlin meets his eyes briefly before his gaze drifts away again. “I put up YouTube videos where I was in the pen with the animals. We were raising funds. It was meant to be fun. Or at least viewers were meant to think it was. But a lot of forethought went into it.”

“And Daegal thought it was a walk in the park.”

Merlin wets his lips. “Yes. I mean he wasn't a downright idiot about it. He only needed more time, Arthur. But he pestered me and he pestered me. He showed me how good he was at this and that job. He never mis-stepped and I knew how much he wanted it so I gave in.”

“And he died,” Arthur says.

“Yes.”

“You know that's not your fault, right?” Arthur wants Merlin to believe his words and to take comfort from them. But he knows Merlin wouldn't because blaming himself is easier to him. “Those are freak accidents and it sounds to me as if Daegal had all the tools to know the levels of danger he was running into. What happened was not up to you.”

Merlin's lips quiver. “I think it was though. If I'd been stricter, if I'd said no. It's why I left Perth and came here.”

“And that's why you want to go on this mission, is it.” Arthur believes Merlin's fairly transparent now. A fairly transparent, incredibly stubborn, marvellously gutsy bastard. “Merlin?”

Merlin raises his head. “Maybe. Perhaps. It's something that needs to be done anyway.”

Arthur grabs him by the arm. “Do you realise how risky it is? Only getting to the raptors' facility will have you running away from pterodactyls and the Pendragon Rex. You'll be putting yourself in mortal danger, Merlin.”

Merlin's shoulders slump and he rattles out a sigh. “This is not just about some sort of misguided attempt at self-redemption, you know. I must look after them. The raptors.” He chews on his lips and looks down. “This past year it's been my job to train them. I'm not leaving them in the lurch now.”

“They're predators, Merlin!” After what he's seen with the Pendragon Rex, Arthur cannot think of them as anything different. Creatures designed to kill. “They're not worth your life.”

“They're part dragon, Arthur!” Merlin says, flipping his hands up over his head. His voice quietens when he adds, “There's something in them that calls out to something in me. That little bit of genetic coding that makes them kin.”

Arthur understands that. Perhaps he doesn't in a visceral way. He can't say he exactly likes raptors so the urge to protect them sounds alien to him. But he gets that Merlin is fundamentally different from him and that his nature puts him at one with dragons and their forbears. “All right. Okay. I concede. But I'm coming too.”

“You can't!” Merlin shakes both his head and his hands. “You just can't.”

“The park is mine!” Arthur taps his fist against his chest.

“Technically, it's your father's!” 

“Well, I'm responsible for it and I'm coming with you.” Arthur crosses his arms,. “I won't take no for an answer.”

“But why?”

“You didn't let me get back to headquarters alone. You were there for me.” His skin burns at the notion. “I won't let you try this without me.”

Merlin beams at him and Arthur feels they can do this. They can make it.

 

**** 

The raptors are free. They stand in a row, the five of them, with their short forelegs up, their heads cocked as if they're listening to some sort of secret. There's something cold in their eyes, something not merely feral but more deeply unsettling that drives a chill into Arthur. They're not looking at him, rather at Merlin, but even so they make him jumpy.

Merlin walks in front of them at the head of the line. He goes from one to the other, as if he's sure they're not going to attack him. He's less expansive with his movements than he normally is. He doesn't gesticulate; he isn't quick with his hands at all. He talks to the animals instead. He does so in a steady voice that never falters, one that has a hypnotic quality to it.

“You've got to help us,” he says, making sure to stop by each raptor in turn. “You've got to attack the Pendragon Rex and bring it down.”

The beasts make a low chirping noise.

“I know you don't feel like it,” Merlin says, as if the animals can actually understand the tenor of his words. “I get that. But you won't be able to survive with the Pendragon Rex about.”

Noises bleed from the raptor's throats.

Arthur doesn't think they're expressive of any understanding but the animals' gaze is fixed on Merlin in a way that speaks of a certain level of connection.

“We've got to trust each other.” Merlin kneels. His throat is bare to the raptors. “You've got to listen to me. Can you listen?”

Arthur wants to snatch Merlin away from the beasts' reach, but he stands locked in the spell Merlin created. Arthur can't call it trust because he's too wary and too wound up down to be able to define it like that. But he's willing to suspend all reaction, to see where this goes.

One of the raptors, the biggest one, holds its head up and hisses through its teeth.

Arthur interprets that as some sort of agreement.

Merlin smiles and says, “Good. We're on the same wavelength, aren't we? Good raptors.”

 

***** 

 

Night has fallen. The stars are out but it's still dark in the way of forests on vast islands with little to no other light sources. The air is cloyingly warm and sticks to Merlin's skin.

But that is not what's making him shift and resettle on his motorbike. He takes in a big breath, swallowing the taste of night, and checks on his raptors. They have new trackers on, collars bearing small radio devices. If everything's working as it should, the raptors ought to be able to hear his voice. How they'll react to it is up in the air but at least the devices are in place.

Merlin throws one last look at Arthur. He's sitting behind the wheel of an armoured lorry. Next to him, there's Mordred. When Merlin had told him to round up the raptors for action, he'd insisted on taking part in the mission. He'd said he'd worked with Merlin from the beginning and he wouldn't stop now. His face is more drawn than Arthur's, though he does make an attempt to wave and break the tension.

Merlin starts the bike. It roars to life, startling the birds in the trees, and setting the raptors all agog.

“Easy there, easy,” Merlin says, before holding the clutch and pushing forward. “We haven't found him yet.”

The bike gathers speed, moving him past large clusters of trees and over high earthy knolls. As Merlin drives on, the raptors vanish into the thick of the vegetation and become shapes Merlin can sense rather than see. Next to him is the mini van Arthur's driving. Mordred clings to the window frame, his grip white-knuckled. On the other side, Cenred drives a 4x4 MPV that's as black as the night. As the vans negotiate bumps, Merlin gives the bike full throttle and revs the engine.

As he speeds past bumps, he loses track of the other vehicles. He bikes into a thick knot of trees whose branches bundle together low. To avoid being whipped in the face, he ducks. When he sits back up straight, he finds himself climbing an earthy incline that leads him onto a patch of vegetation no longer marked by a road.

When he hears the roar, he slows down. He makes out shapes in the dark. They blur past him. He doesn't know what they are, how many more animals the Pendragon Rex has freed, and has no way to ascertain that.

He wants to radio Arthur but making noise isn't something he deems wise at the moment. It's just as well, for Arthur talks to him, making Merlin's need to contact him redundant. “We're going blind, Merlin,” he says. “We can't see you. But we have you pinpointed on GPS.”

Mordred's voice floats in the background of the communication. Merlin only makes out the end tail of whatever he's saying. “... off and help him. I can't stay in here waiting. The raptors are used to me, too.”

“Don't do anything stupid,” Arthur tells Mordred. “We don't know what's out there.”

“Merlin's out there,” Mordred says, his voice sounding further off than Arthur's. “I've got to get close, too.”

A creak sounds, low and prolonged. It's followed by a bang.

“Christ, Mordred,” Arthur says, “come back here!”

Merlin curses under his breath. He wishes he could shout and bring Mordred back to his senses. But he can't do that. He can't give out his position to the P- Rex. And even if he did, he has no direct connection with Mordred and no way to stop him.

He must soldier on. He'll get to Mordred later. With his bike, he flies over ground depressions and hillocks, swerves away from trees and steers northwards, towards the centre of the island.

He's going over a bump, when he sees the raptors again. Kilgharrah and Mab come from different angles and converge into a clearing lit up by the moon. After them come Fafnir, Aithusa and Grendel. They position themselves in a semi-circle.

When he sees the raptors communicate to each other in an alarmed fashion, he kills the bike engine. He's just kicked the stand into place, when the foliage shivers, and the Pendragon Rex thunders into the clearing.

The animal emits a low powerful sound, one that seems to come from deep from within his chest. He looks down at the raptors and they screech at each other.

Merlin gives them his order. “Aithusa, Mab, Fafnir, attack. Kilgharrah, Grendel, go!”

The raptors turn their heads at him. They keep them inclined at an angle and chirp on and on. Merlin knows it's not him they're communicating with and feels a tug of fear because of it.

“Come on,” he says, his lips barely moving. “Come on.”

The raptors hiss at the same time the Pendragon Rex opens its jaws. Then the raptors scatter, disappearing into the vegetation.

“So that's what the P-Rex is,” Merlin says. “He's part raptor.”

Merlin has scarcely come to this conclusion than the P-Rex swipes his forepaws forward. Merlin ducks just in time. Claws slap the air above his head and a cavernous noise rips at his ears. The bike falls on top of him, with one of his legs stuck under.

He digs his elbow under him and pushes, trying to wriggle free. The bike is too heavy and he's in the wrong position to lever it off himself. The Pendragon Rex shifts forward and Merlin feels the shock of its movement with his body. The ground ripples from under him. One more step and Merlin's done for.

With gritted teeth, Merlin kicks at the bike and works to pull his leg from under it, his body straining forwards.

The P-Rex swoops downwards.

The beast's breath is rancid. Merlin smells a collection of old blood with an after-taste of decay. He closes his eyes and raises his arm above his head. Before he can prepare for being eaten alive – not that he believes that's something he can properly do – the screech of brakes and some wild honking breaks the silence of the night.

Merlin peeks from under the shield of his arm. Past the scaly mass of the Pendragon Rex, he spots the dark silhouette of the MPV.

The P-Rex whirls round.

Cenred King hops off the vehicle, a semi-automatic rifle slung across his chest. “Where are the raptors?” He shouts it, looking left and right for them. “Come on, Emrys. You can't have lost track of the heavy money!”

“Never mind the raptors!” Merlin shouts, waving his arm about. “Get under cover.”

“Call the raptors back!” King gestures with his rifle. “They can stop the Rex and make us our fortune!”

He shakes his head. “Let that go. Now's not the time to test their abilities.” Merlin can't believe that King doesn't understand that they're fucked. His eagerness to prove the raptors can be ordered about for military purposes will have to wait. “Just run!”

Cenred shoots instead.

The bullets glance off the Pendragon Rex's hide and ricochet into the trees. They make him roar and leap forward. There's a speed to the motion that leaves Merlin dumbfounded. And then he nosedives and engulfs half of Cenred King in his jaws.

Merlin closes his eyes. When he reopens them, it's to see the Pendragon Rex trundling off.

 

*****

 

When Arthur gets to the clearing, Merlin is under his bike. His eyes are closed and his body is set in a backwards slump, with his spine arched and his head back, chin pointing heavenwards.

Arthur rushes towards him. He lays his pistol on the ground, goes on his knees and lifts Merlin onto his lap. His fingers search the soft of his neck for his pulse point.

He finds it quickly enough. It's strong and steady.

Merlin winces and groans. He opens his eyes and says, “King. He got King.”

“Christ.” Not that Arthur ever liked King, but he wouldn't have wished a death by dinosaur on anyone. “Shit.”

“Yeah.” Merlin breathes that out.

Arthur frowns. “Are you all right?”

“Yeah,” Merlin says, levering himself up. He closes his hand around Arthur's shoulder. “I'm fine.”

Arthur searches Merlin's eyes to make sure he's not lying, but gets lost in them and forgets what he wanted to ask.

He's still looking for the words he meant to say, when they hear the scream. It's deep and full of fear.

“Mordred!” Merlin says, pushing to his feet. “Crap.”

Merlin rushes into the thick of the jungle and Arthur chases after him. They whip along the path, careering past wide tree trunks and jumping over bridges of roots. Their thicknesses cross the track from one end to the other and make it hard to navigate. Still, Arthur and Merlin push forward, leaping over obstacles and using their hands to push away branches and foliage.

They stumble into a smaller clearing than the one they've come from. It's irregularly circular with big cashew trees pressing in on all sides.

The raptors surround a trunk that looks hollow. One, Arthur can't tell which, sits on top of it, hissing at its insides.

“Mordred's in there,” Merlin says, pointing at the trunk. “We need to help him.”

Arthur agrees, though he's not sure how. The raptors form a wall around the cavity where Mordred's found shelter. They're making clacking sounds at each other, while the lead raptor, the one on top of the trunk, claws at the surface of the felled tree, spraying bark chips and foliage debris.

“Kilgharrah.” Merlin steps forwards, one palm out. “Don't do that. You don't want to do that.”

“Merlin!” Arthur tries to grab him by the sleeve but it slips out of his grip. “You can't persuade a feral dinosaur. Are you crazy!”

Merlin answers him but faces the raptors rather than him. “Not at all.” It's said hurriedly, the words coming from between his teeth. To Kilgharrah, Merlin says, “You don't want to eat what's in there. That's Mordred. You know Mordred. Mordred feeds you every other day.”

“I doubt you can reason with the things, Merlin!” Arthur says that in a low tone, with his head turned to Merlin, so the dinosaur won't hear.

Merlin clacks his tongue. “Wait and see.” He takes a step towards the trunk, hand out. “Come on, you know me. You know you can trust me.”

The raptors wag their heads this way and that and caw deep in their throats. Then two of them leap forwards, hissing, teeth on display.

“Okay, all right,” Merlin says, inching backwards. “You're angry, aren't you? Hungry too. But that's no reason to attack.” A twig breaks under his foot as he backtracks. “No reason at all.” He meets the gaze of the raptor. “Why don't we play a game instead?” Arms out, he locks his knees. “Why don't you chase me?”

Arthur's bones feel as though they're setting themselves wrong. “Merlin, you can't.”

But Arthur can't persuade him not to do anything stupid; Merlin speeds away from him and the raptors leap after him.

Arthur watches the dust rise in their wake. “Christ, Merlin.” Then he turns to the trunk and says, “Mordred, are you in there?”

 

**** 

Merlin runs. He speeds ahead until his calves hurt and his lungs become too small. Even after that, he continues to pump his legs and arms, to keep his chin up. But then he stumbles. His chest impacts the ground and he can't breathe. He rolls onto his back and sees a swathe of moonlit sky.

With a twist, he rolls onto his back. The weight on his chest multiplies, and when he blinks he sees Kilgharrah on top of him, eyes made small, his teeth out, his saliva dribbling on Merlin's chin.

His throat bulges and he snaps his snout forward.

Merlin breathes deep, his ribcage hollowing where blood from Kilgharrah's claw wells. He searches inside himself, under his skin and bones, for that spark that makes his body tingle and grow hot with power. The frantic beat of his heart makes it difficult to concentrate and stops him from finding it. He can only hear its drum in his ear and feel its rhythm in his veins.

Kilgharrah opens his jaw.

Merlin closes his eyes. Kilgharrah's spit falls on his face and the bloody tang of his breath gets in his nostrils. Merlin probes at the fabric of his power, tries to snatch at a thread of it. He hears Kilgharrah's growl, feels his claws pierce his flesh. He closes his eyes and sinks into a world of sparks. They bloom red and gold behind his eyelids. When he blinks his eyes open, they scald. “Come on, Kilgharrah,” he says. “You want to stand down.”

Kilgharrah's head tilts sideways.

“You don't want to hurt me,” Merlin says. “We're friends, aren't we?”

Kilgharrah's pupils narrow. It's a subtle shift but it's there.

Merlin rides it, yanks at the link that connects them, wraps Kilgharrah in its coils. “Stand down, Kilgharrah. Down.”

Kilgharrah takes his claws off him.

“Yes, yes, we're kin.” Merlin's throat works. A slightly sweet taste at the back of it makes him want to gag. “Off, Kilgharrah, off.”

Kilgharrah hops off him and chirps. Foliage rustles in the deep corners of the forest and the yellow lights peeping in between the greenery dim.

Merlin lets his ribcage expand and sucks in a breath he then blows out through his nose. He sits up, reaches out with his hand. His palm his open, fingers lax.

Kilgharrah hops forward. He works his head from side to side. He shuffles closer and bumps his head against Merlin's palm. It's hard and rather cold, with bumps and ridges worked under the hide. It's smooth in places, too. Merlin thumbs the hard skin and smiles. “Yes,” he says. “Yes.”

Kilgharrah presses up against Merlin's hand. Steps back and does it again.

Merlin breathes some air in and gets a bit high on it. He swipes his fingers against the ridges of skin on Kilgharrah's neck, lingers on them for a few seconds, wondering at the suppleness of them. It coexists with the hardness of his scaly hide in a way that leaves Merlin dumbstruck. “You're a wonder, aren't you?”

When Kilgharrah backs off, Merlin grins. “Good bye then.”

Kilgharrah chirps before stepping into the dark of the forest.

He's entirely gone, when Arthur and Mordred stop into the clearing. Arthur is brandishing a gun, his clothing streaked with dirt, his shoes encrusted with mud at the heels. Mordred's face is crossed with gashes and shiny from fresh blood.

“Merlin.” Arthur pants his name out. “Are you alright?”

The smile breaks away from Merlin, and it may be a little bit too unfettered considering the circumstances, but he lets it unfurl. “Yeah!”

***** 

The asphalt is a dull unrelieved mass of black, three hundred yards of it between their position and the evacuated Headquarters building. The lights that do shine belong to information points and shops. Though they're empty, its patrons gone, glaring neons still brighten their interiors. Rows of merchandise show on counters. Awnings flap in the wind. Some have tears in it. Arthur doesn't want to consider what put them there though he has an inkling that the pterodactyls flying around at roof level may have something to do with them.

“So,” Arthur says, ducking into an alley between two buildings. “I have a plan.”

Mordred looks at him dubiously. Arthur can see he's had enough. That close encounter with the raptors took the will out of him.

But Merlin says, “Okay, describe this plan of yours.”

“This part of the island has been evacuated, right?”

“Yeah. Gwen said so. They're all at the main terminal points, awaiting to be air lifted. The operation is well under way.”

“So we only need to tackle the Pendragon Rex.” Arthur fixes his gaze on Merlin. It's his opinion he wants, after all. Merlin's the one who's got a bond with the dinosaurs. Maybe not with the one the Pendragon Inc. had cooked up, but the animals in general. “And stop it for good.”

“What if we can't?” Mordred asks, wiping a hand across his mouth. His eyes are wide and mostly whites. “A few raptors nearly killed me and they're nowhere near the same in terms of strength and power as the P-Rex.”

“That is true.” Arthur's considered that angle too. “I'm not proposing we take the Pendragon Rex down using brawn.” He lets his grin go sideways. “Well, not ours.”

Merlin narrows his eyes at him. “What do you propose we do then?”

“We use an opponent in the same category.” Arthur feels the adrenaline rush through his veins. It's laced with hope. “And pit one against the other.”

 

***** 

Merlin runs in Arthur's wake. Moving at a crouch and as fast as he can. He's looking out for threats from the sky but even so he doesn't see the pterodactyl until it downs him.

Its beak is open and aiming for Merlin's throat. Its tongue is out and wings are spread so that its weight pins Merlin down. Merlin tries to shake it off but can't. He can't roll on his side. All he can do is keep its jaws from tearing at his neck. He elbows the animal, attempting to shake it free. All the while he bucks and jerks, but the pterodactyl refuses to budge, screeching and cawing and trying to bury its claws in him.

A black blur flashes past. Before Merlin can summon the wherewithal to fear it, he finds he can breathe again. The burn at his shoulders is gone. He's barely finished blinking, when he sees Arthur.

Arthur drops the bat he'd been wielding and lifts his gun. He fires two quick shots at the pterodactyl.

It slumps, dark blood oozing from its body.

“You saved my life.” Merlin smiles at Arthur. His heart races, painfully bumping against his ribcage. He doesn't know if it's the close call or the sight of Arthur that's causing it. Either way he rather enjoys the sight of Arthur. The grim determination he displays. The light of relief in his eyes. Even his dishevelledness plays on Merlin's weaknesses. His ripped shirt, showing the bulge of his biceps and pecs, is doing something to Merlin. While he completely understands how fucked up it is considering the circumstances, Merlin can't help ignoring everything else that isn't Arthur.

“Yeah,” Arthur says, putting the safety back on the gun. “I don't actually think having you kebabed would've improved your personality.” He looks down. “Besides, I don't entirely dislike you.”

“You don't dislike me, do you?” Merlin feels his smile stretch till it actually hurts a little bit. “Good to know.”

“You think?” Arthur extends a hand out to him.

Merlin grabs it. Despite the difference in shape, their palms fit. “Yeah, I think.”

Arthur squeezes his fingers. “Good.”

“Great.”

Mordred coughs. “The plan.”

“Right, the plan.”

“We need to do it, Merlin,” Arthur says, brushing his gaze with his. “Cenred wasn't entirely wrong. We need to make sure the creature doesn't hurt anyone else. Now or in the future.”

A stab of dread pierces Merlin at the reminder of what they're going to deal with. At the same time he's warmed by Arthur, his courage and his willingness to take risks. “Let's finish this.”

 

**** 

Arthur wipes the sweat off his brow. He can barely see the numbers. They're arrayed in front of him on the pad, the shape of them etched onto the buttons, but he can only make out blurs. He goes by instinct and punches in the keys. The doors shudder and inch open.

He takes a big breath. He's dizzy with it. His heart pulses at the base of his throat and drums in his ears. He takes a step back and another.

The ground shakes. It thunders. When the Tyrannosaurus Rex comes out, Arthur is lost for words. He tilts his head back and stares at her mass. Even though she is not as big as the Pendragon Rex, her body is large and full of sinew. Layers of it move under her hide as she steps forward. Her footfall echoes on the ground like thunder.

It's only when she's gained on him, that Arthur starts to run, waving his torch about.

The Tyrannosaurus Rex starts at a lope that shakes the ground. She snorts, growls, a deep sound that fends the air. She snaps her jaws, her thick tail swishing from side to side. It crashes windows; it uproots light poles. With her clawed feet, she flattens down a car. Because she's getting closer and closer and Arthur can only run so fast, it looks as though Arthur will be next on her hit list.

He's tearing down the road with all that he's got, when he sees the Land Rover. Merlin sits behind the wheel, sounding the horn like a crazed commuter. The Pendragon Rex is going after the car, swiping his forelegs at it.

Merlin drives in a zig-zag pattern, avoiding impact. Even so when the dinosaur paws at the car again, the rear windows shatters, glass raining both into the car and onto the asphalt. The vehicle swerves, but then straightens.

The driver's door opens and Merlin rolls out. Even as the car continues straight on, he picks himself up and starts running. The Pendragon Rex goes after the car rather than the man.

Arthur forces his pace, veering towards Merlin.

Their momentum brings them together in a half embrace that allows Arthur to feel all of Merlin's ribs and sense the pattern of his quickened breath. He wants to stay put and hold on to Merlin and appreciate the physicality and scent of him. This moment in time is the only real thing there is. Even the dinosaurs and the emergency they've got on their hands pale in comparison. But if he wants to somehow have a go at Merlin, they've got to survive this first. He must let go.

Without a driver, the car smashes into the wall and goes up in flames. They lick up the side of a building and flare bright against the night. With its objective gone, the Pendragon Rex whirls round. It sniffs the air, roars and then waddles on towards them. It gains speed. 

It's nearly upon them, his claws already slashing at the air above Merlin's head, when an object speeds past them. At first it looks like nothing more than a dark mass pin-balling forwards, but then Arthur identifies it as one of Merlin's raptors. 

It snaps its jaws at the Pendragon Rex. The dinosaur rears in response and lashes out with his claws, tossing the raptor aside. The flying body impacts a shop window and the beast yelps.

Merlin starts forwards, saying, “I've got to help Kilgharrah.”

“You've got to run,” Arthur says, grabbing for one of the flapping ends of Merlin's shirt. While Merlin's love for his raptors is moving and commendable, Arthur doesn't think that now is the moment to display it. They're a few seconds away from getting eaten by a dinosaur. “Now.”

“I--”

“Merlin, I know you're fond of your dinosaur,” Arthur says. “But you can't sacrifice yourself for it.”

“Him.” Merlin says. “His name is Kilgharrah.”

“I can't let you go.”

Merlin looks to the spot Kilgharrah was dashed against. “I—“

“Merlin, you must realise I'll always prioritise you. And if that doesn't work... If you won't come, then I must stay too.”

Merlin hesitates for two seconds then nods at him, and they both start running.

The Pendragon Rex crashes after them, knocking over trees and urban fixtures. It looks set on overtaking them. Arthur's sure it will and the notion sends his heart skittering and his blood freezing in his veins. But then Tyrannosaurus Rex lets out a mighty growl. Arthur and Merlin turn round. Arthur watches the P-Rex snap his head in the Tyrannosaurus' direction.

The dinosaurs stand like dark giants, hundreds of yards apart, washed in moonlight, made all the more solid looking for it. They stare at each other, eyes narrow and glinting ochre. They throw their heads back and roar at the sky, the sound carrying in the air. The animals bolt forwards. They come together in a tangle of limbs and teeth, grappling, snapping their jaws, digging their claws into each other's hide.

They wrestle across the street, crashing into buildings, destroying masonry. Their tails send cars and stands flying. One hurtles right above their heads.

Arthur tells Merlin, “I think we'd better get as far as we can.”

“Yeah,” Merlin says, eyes riveted on the battling animals. “Yes.”

They hide under an upturned booth. Its aluminium roof slopes over them. Arthur isn't sure it will hold but for now it's as good a place as any.

The T-Rex latches her teeth into the Pendragon's throat. They sink deep and glisten with blood. The Pendragon Rex lets out a howl and slams his head against the other animal's. Once again, the two creatures come together in deadly dance, thrashing each other, biting and lashing out with claws and teeth. They dent the buildings they smash into. They take down the columns standing before the Visitor Centre. They spin around the road until they hit the lagoon walk.

The Pendragon recoups, crouching into a fighting stance. The T-Rex comes for him. She clamps her jaw in the Pendragon Rex's neck. The tear is so wide it gapes open, blood welling from it in fast rivers. One further swipe and the Pendragon Rex splashes into the pool behind it. Water bubbles around it and turns crimson, but the Pendragon Rex doesn't re-emerge.

 

****

 

Merlin creeps out from under the cover of the upturned booth and walks towards the Tyrannosaurus Rex. She looms over him, her teeth stained with blood, her head thrown back to release a primal bellow.

Merlin holds his hand out with his palm flat and searches his consciousness for the white flare of recognition that strikes him when he's close to dragons and their dinosaur kin. The chain of their bond lights up hot inside him. It's not as keen as the connection he has with dragons but it shackles a part of his soul all the same. The bonds aren't anything he wants to let go of.

“You're free now.” Merlin's fairly sure the island won't be a theme park site anymore. It'll go back to nature. “Just try not to hurt any humans, if you ever come across them.”

The T-Rex bows her head at him, lowering her body, then she jerks her head up and lumbers off.

Merlin's still smiling, when Kilgharrah bumps his head against his shoulder.

Merlin turns. He takes in his blooded side and his quickened breath. He fans his hand out and touches Kilgharrah's jaw. “Don't worry, I'll patch you up, my friend.”

 

**** 

 

The evacuation centre bristles with people. Some sit on benches, others on the ground, either on bedrolls or blankets. Groups of visitors sleep on tables. Families stick together; pairs hold hands. People who hadn't met before mingle and share food, passing each other booth sandwiches and bags of crisps. The sun washes all of them in its pale warm glow.

Arthur steps away from the wall window overlooking the meeting point and dabs at his face and wet hair with a towel.

He's half turned, when Merlin appears in the doorway. Unlike Arthur, he's still in yesterday's clothes. They show a bit less dirt than Arthur's pale office outfit but Arthur's sure the fabric's as itchy as they come.

“Do come in,” Arthur says.

Merlin advances. “I was wondering how you were.”

Arthur lifts a shoulder. “Alive. Relieved. Aggrieved. I lost lives. Caused mayhem to happen. Am short one animal that cost millions and that was not really responsible for what it did.”

Merlin walked over to him. “It was not your fault.”

Arthur raised an eyebrow.

“That animal was dangerous, yes,” Merlin says, raising his eyes to him. “He shouldn't have been engineered into life. The whole idea of this park is dangerous. But you have nothing to do with series of events that led to...” His mouth twitches in distaste. “... the mayhem. Once the Pendragon Rex figured out a way to get himself out of containment, it was not really up to you anymore.”

“And yet...”

Merlin puts a hand on his shoulder. It's caked in dried mud but Arthur doesn't mind, not really. The warmth of it gives him strength, braces him. “You know, throughout all of this, you've been quite great. You set out to solve the problem and you did. You made sure that there was the least loss of life possible. And considering the circumstances, that's short of miraculous. You put others before you, and you showed so much bravery, Arthur.”

“I didn't--” Arthur closes his eyes against the wave of dizziness that comes at him. It's as black as guilt and its pall sits heavy on his shoulders.

“You did.”

The soft pressure of lips on his own robs of Arthur of breath. It rushes out of him and his eyes snap open. “You--”

“Oh, you didn't want that. I thought perhaps that you might, but--” Merlin steps back.

Arthur grabs him by the arm, puts pressure behind the touch. “No, I-- I didn't mean to stop you.” Arthur licks his lips. There's no trace of Merlin's taste of them. It's a pity really. “I just didn't think you...”

Merlin raises an eyebrow.

“You don't like me,” Arthur says, letting his shoulders slump down. “Let's face it. You don't like who I am, the fact that I'm a Pendragon, my father's involvement in the theme park business, or my own. That's why we didn't work the first time around.”

“Yes,” Merlin says, but his eyes retain a soft light in them.

Arthur's throat hollows: his shoulders tighten. “See, I get that it's only natural.” He looks away. “You're an animal rights crusader, love every living, breathing creature. And then there's me, the son of a mogul who's done nothing but exploit nature. I've... I've done it too. I didn't realise it.” Arthur casts his mind over the years. “I thought I was heading a business venture but it wasn't just that. It was more. I should have listened to you and your environmentalist stance more.” His throat works. “And I get this too--” He gestures at their closeness. “Wanting sex after what we went through is normal. It's life affirming or something. It's...”

“Oh cut it.” Merlin shakes his head, his jaw set. “I wouldn't have kissed you if I didn't like you. If I didn't want you.” Merlin cuts him off as soon as Arthur opens his mouth. “You're right. When we went out on that date, I thought you were different. I thought you subscribed to that cut-throat business mentality of your father's. But I think I've come to know you better now. And I like what I see. Besides, who am I to cast judgement? You know my professional history. You know I'm responsible for Daegal's death.”

“You're not.” Nothing of what Merlin told him indicates that he was in any way to blame for what happened.

“Well, if you're willing to overlook the blemishes in my past,” Merlin says, arching an eyebrow. “I will overlook yours. Now if that's enough for you to start something on, then I'd like to kiss you again.”

Arthur smiles and pulls Merlin to him. “I think it's enough.”

Merlin catches Arthur's lip between his, sucks and licks on it, till warmth fills Arthur's ribcage and his spine tingles. It's different from the shivers of fear he felt when he was out there in the park, running for his life, but no less electrifying. It sets him on the edge of something, a thrill, heartbreak and Arthur wants to find out exactly what that is, analyse the nature of it over and over again. With that in sight, Arthur returns the kiss with deep strokes of his tongue and little bites that leaves him shaking in his own frame.

Moving from kissing to necking is easy enough. Arthur doesn't think, doesn't come up with a battle plan, doesn't put on the moves on Merlin as he would have done if this were an ordinary date. In a fever that comes from both tiredness and desire, he leans in and places open-mouthed kisses at the base of Merlin's throat, nibbling on his collarbone right where his shirt, torn and muddied, doesn't reach. His lips latch on the hollow of Merlin's throat, rub against it in soft passes that raise a shiver he can feel the reverberation of himself. He scrapes his teeth along Merlin's throat, nibbles along the angles of his jaw, then back down again. Merlin makes a noise deep down in his throat, a quickly bitten off grunt that only segues in a release of breath.

Arthur's mouth and nose bump against the ridges and hollows of Merlin, along soft skin and hard bone, trace an ear and the curve of his chin, its soft underside.

When Arthur's hands land on Merlin's hip, Merlin says, “Give me a moment.” His voice is no more than a rasp. “I-- I'm dirty and sweaty and... Let me take a shower.”

Arthur doesn't want to wait. He feels as if his bones are fragile and his heart is about to shatter and the only thing he has against that is Merlin and the faith Merlin has in him. But he can't press him, so he says in raspy tones, “There's a shower in that room over there.” He tilts his head in the right direction. “There are towels and everything.”

“Good,” Merlin says, pressing his lips to his. “I'll be back in a few moments.”

He turns around and strips his shirt on the way to the bathroom. His back is lean and the notches on his spine show together with the flex of wiry muscles. Arthur lets out a big breath, scrubs a hand down his face and chuckles.

He sits on the sofa bed with his feet spread out and his elbows on his knees. His muscles bunch and his heart goes faster. He can feel it in his wrists and neck. He tries to take a few breaths to calm down but his skin keeps prickling in goose flesh and he gives up on the notion he ought to act cool.

When Merlin comes back, he's wrapped only in a white towel. His hair is still somewhat damp, and the hair on his chest is wet, too. Droplets glisten on his torso and belly, and Arthur wants to touch his mouth to them and lick them and taste the salt off Merlin's skin.

While Arthur's lost in this reverie, Merlin grabs his hands and locks them together with his. He pushes Arthur down and lands on top of him, his knees either side of him.

They share a kiss. It's hot and deep and breath-taking. It shallows out and it becomes playful, light-hearted. Arthur's chest empties of the burden he's carried in it ever since the Rex broke out and he breathes freely, able to take joy in Merlin's kisses, the taste of him.

Merlin's kisses move to Arthur's neck. He fists the hem of Arthur's shirt, gives it a yank.

"Wait, wait," Arthur says, his lips used, raw.

As Merlin draws back, Arthur lifts his top off his head.

"Not enough," Merlin says, opening Arthur's trousers. He tugs Arthur out of his boxers. Arthur wasn't soft to begin with but thanks to the warmth of Merlin's palm the knowledge of physical contact, he hardens. Merlin thumbs the head, rubs his fist around the tip, and gives it a twist that punches Arthur right in the lungs. On a return caress he curls his hand around Arthur, the tip of him poking out on the downstroke, damp with precome, Merlin's palm raising shivers as it moves back up. 

With a surge Arthur pushes his trousers and underwear the rest of the way down. He doesn't want the weight of clothes on him now. He wants skin on skin and to learn the tracery of Merlin's. Merlin kisses his forehead and works him, stroking him slow, then a little faster, then slow again. It drives Arthur crazy, the rhythm-free nature of it. He rakes his hands down Merlin's back, palm flat, dislodging the towel until Merlin's naked.

He can feel Merlin's muscles pull tight under his palms. He can sense the hot stamp of his kisses on his face. He hitches his hips forward and into Merlin's palm, the damp head of his cock leaving tracks along Merlin's wrist. He places wet kisses on Merlin's chest, on his nipple, sucks them into his mouth.

Arthur sets his hand around Merlin's hipbone and sucks on his ribs, kisses them.

Merlin moans, cups his face, scratches their faces together. But he never forgets to work Arthur, his palm hot around him, making him wet.

Arthur can't stop himself. His breathing quickens, his heart climbs to his mouth and pushes out pre-come.

Merlin pulls hard, fast. He whips his hand up and down the length of him. He catches some more of the wetness on his hand, until Arthur can't hold it in any more. His ribcage comes apart, his vision whitens, the intensity of the experience spiralling upwards, and he comes, closing his teeth around a mouthful of Merlin's shoulder.

His breathing slows down little by little, but it still sounds loud, with an edge of tremulousness to it. He tilts his head back, blinks, and takes Merlin in. His lips are red from the kisses they've traded. There are patches of equally chafed skin on his torso and neck, where Arthur's teased his skin with his mouth and teeth. His hair's curling from the shower and going up in tufts, and at the sight, Arthur feels warmth pool around his heart. Prompted by it, he pulls Merlin to him.

They end up flat on the sofa, Arthur's head on the armrest, Merlin balanced on top. Arthur runs his hands down the length of Merlin's forearm, down to his wrist, glancing a caress across his palm. It's fever hot, a little damp with the sweat of their bodies. But he joins hands all the same, moulding them together. Back in the car yesterday, when they were lost in the jungle, he'd wanted to hold on too, and now he can, and the pleasure he derives from it fills his ribcage and makes it heavy. They kiss, mouths fastening together, hot and seamless, opening up for each other's tongues, which cross and tangle wetly. Arthur strokes Merlin's back, palms him forward with his hands splayed across his buttocks. Their cocks graze again, his spent, Merlin's still hard and hot.

With a sob, Merlin leans down and scrapes his mouth along Arthur's jawline, teasing with the fat of his lips. It's a feather soft pass that makes Arthur shiver wholesale. When Merlin's mouth reddens from it, he catches Arthur in a kiss that's all tongue. Arthur slips a hand between them, wraps it around Merlin and lets Merlin press his hips into the touch. He does it in little stuttered hitches that Arthur is starting to have a sixth sense for.

With an ear out for any sound of pleasure, Arthur strokes Merlin in time with his thrusts. Merlin shifts on top of him, his weight resettling in new formations, his teeth at Arthur's throat. Longing, a deep of well of affection, echoes through him, piercing him through and through. It does so with a sweetness that feels much like a mortal wound. He welcomes Merlin's urgency then, his hurried motions; they play into Arthur's feelings and make him intensely breakable. He watches him then and he's not only on the lookout for signs he's doing well, giving Merlin what he wants. He's also taking in the quirks of Merlin's love-making, the rhythms and tempos of him. Arthur finds he doesn't only want to see Merlin come – though he's most certainly looking forward to that. He wants to learn the ways of him. He wants to get him and latch on to that knowledge in case it stays nothing but a memory.

Meanwhile, Merlin's movements get a fragmentary, jerky quality to them. His lips move but he doesn't say anything. He doesn't swear or call out Arthur's name. He doesn't vocalise what he wants. His lips rove across Arthur's skin in patterns that aren't kisses but that Arthur treasures as some kind of lost caress. For all his silence, for all his holding his cards close to his chest, this isn't a Merlin who's in control. His breathing is too erratic for that, too ragged; his kissing, the touches of his hands, are too febrile, too chaotic for order.

It takes little to get Merlin close. Arthur gives his cock one firm tug, his palm wrapped tight around it, and Merlin goes taut on top of him, his muscles bulging and locking. His breath stutters out and come gushes out of him and wets Arthur's hand.

“Are you all right?” Arthur asks, rubbing Merlin's flank with his clean hand.

“Yes,” Merlin says with a smile that is tired but not tight. “Better than I thought I'd ever get to ever feel again.”

“I know what you're thinking,” Arthur says, looping an arm round Merlin and playing with his hair. “I lost hope out there, too.”

“It's over, you know,” Merlin tells him, putting a wet kiss to his shoulder. “Now we fix what's left that's wrong, starting with Pendragon Inc. policies, but that part of the ordeal is past.”

“Yes.” Arthur wants to. He wants to talk to his father, oust him if necessary, and shut down all the labs catered to the engineering of extinct animals. “Yes. It's time to clean up after our mistakes now.”

“I'll help you.” It's said in a murmur against Arthur's skin, nothing more than that, but Arthur catches the words just fine. “I know I'm not much use at corporate anything, but I'll help you dismantle all this.”

If anyone can, Arthur believes, it's Merlin. He doesn't have the words to convey all his plans for the future, or thank Merlin for his willingness to help Arthur see them through. So he squeezes his hand and lets a kiss speak for him.

 

**** 

The helicopter takes off. Merlin sees the green spread of the island, spies the mountain ridges and valleys that make up its geography. In spite of the alterations that Pendragon Inc. has wrought, it's still wild, a natural gem surrounded by the green ocean and gilded by the rays of the midday sun.

Looking over at the retreating view Merlin, says, “I hope the surviving animals get to live a good life, free on the island.”

Arthur catches his gaze and says, “If I have anything to do with it, they will.”

The End.


End file.
